


The Assassin's Blade

by LadyVader23



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, But he also has a suit, Dark Comedy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Multiple identities, Suitless Darth Vader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-28 21:40:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 163,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVader23/pseuds/LadyVader23
Summary: Two years after Order 66, Padme is both an assassin for the Rebellion and a mother of twins. She will stop at nothing to bring democracy back to the Galaxy, even if it means killing Imperials to do it. But news of suspicious assassinations reaches Sidious, who dispatches Vader to hunt down this mysterious assassin. What Vader discovers will change the fate of the Galaxy.





	1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: **In this fic, Vader does use his iconic suit, but not because he needs to. He was NOT burned on Mustafar, which will be explained later. It's purely to mask his identity and because, come on, that suit is AWESOME. Rated mature for violence because...assassins. Need I say more?**

* * *

Rain pelted the cobblestones of the Capital City of Lothal, drenching everything and anyone unlucky enough to be caught outside. What few lights shone in the darkness of the night were swallowed up by the dark gray mist that accompanied the rainfall. As a result, hardly a soul was in sight—even Imperial personnel had rushed back to their barracks as quickly as possible to get out of the cursed weather.

Lieutenant Althio cursed under his breath, pulling his cap down over his eyes as he walked. He had been forced to work late for the third night in a row. The Emperor was in the process of grooming the planet to become an industrial center to build TIE fighters, and in addition to all of the paperwork that had to be done, the local population needed to be placated as well. These were simple farming people, and they did not like the idea of their way of life being destroyed without their consent.

Therefore, It was Althio's job to vacate the farmers from the land the Emperor wished to build on. He had thought it would be easy to convince the lowly farmers to leave—just bring in some Storm Troopers, make a big deal about their powerful blasters, and they would all pack and leave with little argument.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

Most of the farmers put up a strong fight, and when that happened…well. The results weren't exactly pretty.

But, that was the way of the Emperor. Althio was just following orders. It was his job to follow, not question his Emperor. To question orders brought certain death, and he wasn't going to risk that. He'd execute every single farmer if he had to in order to avoid that fate.

A cold wind howled through the street, funneled through the city buildings, causing a shiver to run up his spine. Of course. Not only was it raining, but now a chilly wind had decided to blow in with it.

Just his rotten luck.

He still had four more blocks to go before he reached the warm common room of the barracks. He wished that he had taken a speeder, but of late, he had been trying to work more light exercise into his routine. Unless he needed to go to a farm, or travel to the other side of the city, he preferred to walk.

Tonight, that had been a mistake.

However, he thought, pausing at the mouth of an alleyway, I could take a shortcut…

He hesitated. Alleyways in the Capital City weren't always the safest, especially at night. Then again, when were alleyways ever safe? Besides, most of the city's populace was shuttered into their homes for the night. It was, after all, past curfew. What were the odds of running into trouble at this time of night? They were quite low, and if he hurried, they would be even lower.

Without further thought, he turned on his heel and made his way into the alley, darkness completely enclosing him.

The alleys of Capital City were a maze, easy to get lost in, if one wasn't familiar with them. He had taken the time when he was first stationed here to learn these back alleys, so even in the dark he knew just where to turn.

As he suspected, he was completely alone, save for the occasional Loth-cat that jumped from trash bins looking for leftover food. Althio smiled humorlessly. There was little food on Lothal these days: At least, for the locals anyway. Most of the food on the planet went to the Imperials. It was highly unlikely the stray cats would find anything of substantial use in those cans.

Thud.

It was so soft, he almost didn't hear it. He paused, taking a look around the alley, peering into the shadows. All he saw was a Loth-cat emerging from behind a trash bin. Althio relaxed, shaking his head. "Just a stupid cat," he muttered under his breath, turning back around.

He didn't quite believe that though. Cautiously, he moved forward again, his ears straining for any peculiar noises now. Perhaps it was nerves. Perhaps he had been working too hard for too long. Perhaps there really was something out there. Whatever it was, it was making him jumpy, and it was never good to be that way. Especially in a dark alley.

Scrrrtch.

There! Another noise, again so soft that he would have missed it had he not already been spooked. Just a cat, he kept telling himself, turning around, just a cat, just a cat…

Nothing was there. There was no movement. He looked to be completely alone.

Still, something within him screamed at him to run, some irrational instinct that kicked in as his mind began to imagine what possible things lurked in the darkness…

"Lieutenant Althia," A voice purred from the darkness, and once more, he whirled around, heart racing wildly as he pulled his blaster from its holster with shaking fingers.

There was no one there.

"Show yourself!" He demanded, trying to ignore the shakiness that leaked into his voice.

For a moment, nothing happened, nothing stirred. But then, from within the dark, a brilliant blue light ignited with a snap-hiss, the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber being ignited.

Jedi.

The light illuminated a figure clad, from head to toe, all in black, but that was all he could see. "You will pay for your crimes against the people of Lothal." The voice was cool, seemingly uninterested, but he could hear the deadly edge beneath those words.

He panicked.

He shot the blaster, a shot that should have rung true to its target, but instead of hitting the figure, the lightsaber smoothly blocked the bolt, sending it smashing back into the trash bins with a BANG that rang in his ears.

He tried again. Same result.

The figure began to move towards him casually, as if it was bored with him already. It didn't seem to be the least bit concerned that he was shooting at it.

He cursed, giving that idea up, and turned back around and blindly ran. In his mind, he replayed the betrayal of the Jedi two years before against the Emperor, and the subsequent destruction of their Order at the hands of the Emperor's apprentice, Darth Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith. It was said that all of the Jedi were dead, but there were still rumors of some that had survived the purges and were looking to extract vengeance on the Empire.

As an Imperial soldier, he was apparently the target of one such Jedi tonight.

Perhaps he could lose the Jedi in the dark alleys. He knew these alleys; the Jedi likely did not. It was his only chance. If he could just…

The sound of blaster fire filled the air, and a split second later a burning, searing pain exploded in his leg, and he stumbled, barely catching the wall in time to stop himself from smashing face-first into the cold hard ground. He cried out in pain, reaching down to clutch his now bleeding leg. All he wanted to do was continue to clutch at the wound until the pain subsided enough for him to crawl back to the barracks to get medical attention, but he couldn't. He glanced back, dreading to see what he would find…

The cloaked figure was right behind him, once more approaching him as if it were a Loth-cat toying with its prey.

Again, panic clutched his throat, and he made a strangled noise, his brain racing with Jedi stories. It was said, in some versions, that Jedi used to be peacekeepers of the old Republic, not killers. Perhaps this Jedi intended to capture him and bring him before a Rebel sect to answer for what some thought to be crimes…

"You won't kill me," He managed to choke out, trying to sound confident, "You're Jedi-Scum. You would rather I stand trial and give you secrets of the Empire." He scoffed at that. As if he would betray his Emperor like that! Besides, he didn't know much other than what the Emperor had planned for the industrialization of this planet.

The figure stopped, the brilliant blue hue of the lightsaber illuminating the area around them. This time, he could see that the figure was short, far shorter than he expected, wearing a long black, rain-plastered cloak with a hood, a black mask that concealed half of the face, with a black leather, curve-hugging outfit that had other, various weapons attached, along with two blaster holsters, one on each hip. If he wasn't mistaken, the figure was that of a…

A woman.

The unknown woman chuckled, a dark humorless sound that made the hair on his body stand on end and a bone chilling shiver race across his skin, and the hum of the lightsaber suddenly seemed to reverberate in his ears. "You're right, Lieutenant," She conceded calmly, "A Jedi would want that." She paused, as if taking him in.

"However, I am no Jedi."

He didn't have a chance to scream before the saber suddenly lashed out in a smooth, powerful stroke, cutting across him cleanly.

* * *

Darth Vader sneered in distaste at the pathetic excuse for a "Capitol City" that Lothal had. It was more like a blip. An insignificant blip, compared to the mighty Imperial cities he normally inhabited as the Emperor's second in command. If he wasn't parading about in his cursed black suit, making a terrifying example to terrorize the people of the Galaxy into submission for the emperor, he was off on the pathetic excuses for a battlefield in the Outer Rim, exterminating Rebels like the mildly annoying bugs they were. Lothal was neither of those things.

He shouldn't have been there.

But, the Emperor was paranoid. Imperial patrols had found some lowly lieutenant murdered in an alleyway with suspicious wounds on this backwater orb of dirt called Lothal. The rumor was that it was a Jedi who did it, and with the few remaining Jedi scattered across the galaxy in hiding, the Emperor was paranoid that somehow one of them could have the power to overthrow his regime.

As if.

Vader knew the Jedi. Very well. He'd once been one himself, the most touted Jedi ever. They were spineless, blind, and weak. Without an army of Clone Troopers behind them, they were doomed to be hunted down and exterminated at some point. Vader preferred to go after a Jedi if he was absolutely certain that it was a real lead. Lothal was a rumor, probably created by the small minded idiots who had been stationed there. It would be a dead end. He was sure of it, and that annoyed him to no end. He had far better things to do with his time than chase shadows.

As he wound his way down the alleys, a few elite Storm Troopers flanking him, peasants scrambled to get out of his way. If they were smart, they'd run far away. He wasn't in the mood for this. He had a feeling that as soon as he confirmed that it wasn't a Jedi who had killed the lieutenant, he might lash out and kill someone himself to prove a point: Don't claim it was a Jedi unless it really was a Jedi.

Vader smelled the murder scene well before he rounded the last corner. Behind his mask, he crinkled his nose in disgust, finding the smell repugnant. These fools were so certain that it was a Jedi who had killed the man, they had left the body there in the street, strictly guarded, untouched. Under the hot sun, the body would already be decomposing. Vader almost felt bad for those who lived in the homes nearest to the alley.

Almost.

"Lord Vader, Sir!" The two troopers guarding the body stood at attention the moment he appeared. He could sense their fear, so thick he might have been able to slice through it with his lightsaber. Good. They had good reason to be afraid. Their lives would be ending shortly.

"Move." Was all he said, the black mask distorting his voice into something dark and fearsome. He watched the troopers stiffen before they obediently did as he commanded, leaving him with a clear view of the body lying on the cobblestones.

He approached it, his hand straying to his lightsaber, ready to ignite it and cut down the troopers the moment he found out it wasn't a Jedi-related murder…and paused.

Interesting.

The body was cut cleanly in a diagonal slash. There was no blood. The wounds were cauterized, and just the right size for a lightsaber blade. The depth of the cut into the body indicated the weapon had been wielded with power and force.

His interest piqued, the annoyance he felt disappeared just a little. "You," he barked at one of the troopers, who jumped a little in terror. "Is there any other evidence at this scene? Or, is it just the body?"

"There is evidence of blaster fire over here, Sir." One of them motioned to the trash cans on the edge of the alley. Sure enough, there were indeed scorch marks from blasters on the aluminum.

Vader frowned, turning back to the unmoved body. Breathing through his mouth to avoid the growing stench, he bent down to take a closer look.

There. On the left leg. The lieutenant had been shot, right before the lightsaber had sliced him apart, possibly to stop him from running. Unusual. That was not a Jedi move. Jedi were eventually trained to use blasters, but it was such a minimal training, it was more of an afterthought, as the Jedi's preferred weapon was, of course, a lightsaber. A Jedi usually would use the Force to slow someone's escape, not use blaster fire to injure them first. Unless they were trying to make it seem confusing, or possibly, this was a youngling he had somehow missed in Order 66…But, he dismissed that thought from his head as quickly as it had come.

He took another closer look at the lightsaber wound. Whoever it had been, they weren't tall. The lieutenant had not been a short man, but this wound was situated in such a way…if Vader had to guess, the murderer had been about 5"4. Maybe 5"5 at most.

Other questions plagued Vader's mind.

If the murderer wasn't a Jedi, how had they come across a lightsaber? He had done his best to make sure the lightsabers of the fallen Jedi were destroyed. He had his own agents constantly scouring the Black Market looking for light sabers: As soon as they found a lightsaber, they would notify him, and then that merchant would 'disappear mysteriously.' No, it made more sense that the murderer would be a Jedi…

But why, then, did he not sense a Force-presence lingering at the scene of the crime?

The Jedi could have been a master at shielding. Certainly, that was possible. Or, it could have been a normal person who had just somehow managed to acquire a very hard to get weapon. Regardless, one thing was now very clear: This was something he would need to look into further. Even if the Emperor hadn't ordered Vader to come and investigate, if Vader had stumbled upon this himself, he would have taken it upon himself to investigate.

"Is it a Jedi, Sir?" one of the troopers asked cautiously, reminding Vader that he had witnesses to this. Vader paused before standing back up, turning, his black cape flowing behind him. These men had been right to report a possible Jedi attack, as much as Vader didn't like to admit it. Under most circumstances, they would be rewarded.

But this was not a normal circumstance.

He couldn't allow them to spread rumors about a Jedi attack through the trooper ranks. Pretty soon, the galaxy would be full of whispers of a Jedi uprising, and he didn't need the Rebels to try to use that to their advantage.

He lashed out in the Force, strangling one of the troopers, his neck snapping with a twist of Vader's gloved hand and wrist. The other trooper barely had enough time to react before Vader's lightsaber ignited and pierced through his chest, killing him instantly. The other trooper collapsed to the ground, both of them dead.

"No," Vader said coolly, "It isn't."

He motioned to the bodies. "Clean this up. It stinks." He said to the troopers from his personal guard he had brought with him.

"Yes, sir, Milord!" They said, scrambling to do as he ordered. He didn't bother to wait for them. He stepped over the dead troopers and headed off down the alley from whence he'd come, his cloak billowing out behind him.

Whatever had happened here, he decided as he headed back towards his personal shuttle, it would need further investigation.

Question was: How seriously should he investigate?

* * *

Padme Naberrie Amidala Skywalker entered the cockpit of her personal shuttle, having changed out of her assassin outfit and into something far more comfortable and inconspicuous: Tan pants, dark brown, knee-high boots, and a simple light brown tunic. To anyone who saw her, she was just another low-born, unimportant woman in in the galaxy. She left her chestnut hair flowing around her and down her back, a style that neither Queen nor Senator Amidala would ever have worn in public.

Gone were the days of fancy ornate dresses. Gone were the days of her handmaidens painstakingly doing her hair into elaborate updos. Now, she was to keep a low profile. If it were found out that she was still alive, and that she was now an assassin for the Rebellion…

Well. It would certainly mean a death mark.

Obi-Wan Kenobi sat in the pilot's chair, preparing the ship to land on Gandle Ott, a planet so far out in the Outer Rim, the Empire barely knew, or perhaps cared, that it even existed.

A Loth-Cat walked precariously over the instruments, causing Obi-Wan to grumble and furrow his brow in annoyance and try to move the cat back onto the floor of the ship. "Need I remind you," He said, as she entered the cockpit, "This is the Rebellion, not a petting zoo."

Padme smiled at her old friend, picking the cat up in her arms before taking her seat in the co-pilot's chair. She rubbed the cat gently behind its large ears, and it began to purr. "I may be part of the Rebellion, Obi-Wan, but I am a mother first and foremost. My children's happiness comes first. Always." The look she gave him was both amused and pointed.

She meant what she said...and he knew it.

Perhaps it was odd that as soon as she was done slicing Anakin's lightsaber across the body of the lieutenant, she had picked up the Loth-Cat hanging out in one of the dumpsters and brought it back to the ship. She doubted many assassins (and she was now acquainted with quite a few across the galaxy) brought home pets to their children, but then, she also doubted that many assassins had children in the first place.

She was new to this assassin business, and she wanted to do a good job for the Rebellion, if it meant bringing democracy back to the galaxy and toppling Sidious' tyranny, but she also wanted to be a good mother to her two-year-old twins, Luke and Leia Skywalker.

They were all she had. They were her reason for living. They were the reason she still fought.

To strive to secure a future of freedom for them.

Obi-Wan sighed, and she didn't need to look at him to know that he was rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, Senator." Padme smirked.

"Obi-Wan," She chided, letting the cat go as it squirmed in her lap, trying to drop back down to the floor, "It's Padme at home and in private. Angela in public. It would be a really dumb way to get us captured because you keep forgetting to not call me Senator." Her look was amused.

"Fine, Fine." Obi-Wan agreed. "We should be exiting hyperspace in about fifteen minutes."

Padme nodded absently, her hand, as it usually did these days, going to the lightsaber that was almost constantly at her side. The feel of it sent a wave of comfort through her, despite the deeply personal loss it also represented.

Anakin Skywalker's lightsaber… recovered from that awful night on Mustafar, when she had lost everything...and the one person...she held most dear. Built by her husband, it was a sleek and yet simple design, and it was as familiar to her now as her own hands, which were a tad bit too small for the saber. She didn't care.

It had been her beloved husband's, and she wouldn't part with it for all the credits in the galaxy.

Obi-Wan, noticing as he always did whenever she began to fiddle with Anakin's lightsaber, cleared his throat. "Padme," he began, "Are you sure that you don't want me to build you a lightsaber that would be better suited for your size? After all, Anakin's hands were much larger than yours, and he built that for himself...I mean, it would just make sense…"

Padme sighed. Always, it was the same.

Already, she was shaking her head adamantly. "Stop asking me that question, Obi-Wan. I grow tired of repeating myself. The answer is no. I won't...I refuse...to use any other lightsaber but my husband's." She could tell by the set of Obi-Wan's jaw that he didn't agree with her, but he didn't push the issue any longer either. They had already had their major fight about it, but in the end, Padme's stubbornness had won out. Besides, she knew the other reason behind Obi-Wan's insistence that she use another lightsaber: He didn't like to be reminded of his former padawan and best friend's fall to the Dark Side. To him, Anakin's lightsaber embodied Obi-Wan's personal failure from stopping Anakin's fall. Perhaps he worried that, somehow, just by using it, Padme too would fall into the Emperor's clutches.

Padme had her own reasons behind using the lightsaber. Reasons Obi-Wan would never understand. Reasons she would never share with him because he wouldn't, couldn't understand.

So, she kept those reasons locked in her heart, just as she kept the lightsaber clipped to her belt.

She never brought Anakin up to Obi-Wan. Not since the day she had come to terms with what had happened. Her beloved Ani was dead. Darth Vader had taken his place. Her husband wasn't coming back.

An essential part of her had died with him that night on Mustafar. If it hadn't been for her precious Luke and Leia, she might have died that night, too. Still, there was so much of their father in both of them, and each day was agony for her knowing they would never know their real father and the good man he'd once been.

When the Rebellion had contacted her for a secret mission shortly after the twins' birth two years ago, she accepted blindly. The loss of her husband, the knowledge that she was about to be a single mother in hiding from an Empire that had proclaimed her dead, had overwhelmed her. She'd felt helpless. The Rebellion's offer, whatever it was, presented her with an opportunity to take fate back into her own hands. When it was revealed that the mission she had blindly accepted was to become the Rebellion's assassin, sent across the galaxy to silently pick off and eliminate dangerous Imperials to help make way for the Rebellion's own spies and officers, it hadn't made a difference to her.

Gone was the Padme who would have insisted that they be captured and stand trial. Gone was the Padme who gave inspiring speeches to a war-torn galaxy, pushing for a diplomatic roadway to peace. Gone was the Padme who overall believed in the inherent goodness of people. In the moment of that offer, she'd been at a crossroads, deciding who it was she wanted to be from now on. The Rebellion offered her that identity.

She took it.

Obi-Wan wasn't happy about that. For months, while she trained intensively in secret with various professional assassins in a variety of weapons, with the Rebellion's backing, she would come home to where Obi-Wan was protecting the twins and would argue with him quietly for hours on end about her chosen course of action. He was afraid for who and what she would become if she kept on the path of an assassin. Padme disagreed, and even if Obi-Wan was right, it was her choice to make, not his. But, as the Empire strengthened and more and more innocent people were publicly executed and Imperial propaganda was broadcast to every corner of the galaxy, Obi-Wan finally caved. "Perhaps," He'd said, his blue eyes clouded with exhaustion and defeat, "We need to try a different strategy."

So he'd trained her, honed her skills she'd learned from the Rebellion, and added lightsaber training as well.

Now here she was. An assassin. She had completed her first official mission. She had taken a life in cold blood.

She found she didn't regret it. Not one bit.

"You're sure you left no evidence that could be traced back to a supposedly long-dead senator?" Obi-Wan asked for about the millionth time.

"I'm sure." Was her cold response as they dropped out of Hyperspace, Gandle Ott looming beneath them. Obi-Wan expertly steered the ship through the atmosphere, finding one of the few but sparsely used landing ports nearest to their hidden home in the forest. Before they exited the shuttle, Padme made sure to pry the Loth-Cat from beneath the dashboard where it had become tangled in the wires. "We'll need to make sure nothing was damaged before our next mission." Padme remarked dryly.

"I'll be sure to do that." Obi-Wan replied, and she could hear the weariness in his voice. When she straightened and looked at him, she found no traces of that exhaustion. She knew it was there, though. It had been there since that night on Mustafar. He just did his best to hide it.

She stuffed the cat into her backpack, much to the creature's hissing protest, and exited the craft, finding their parked speeders nearby.

Even though the port was close to her hidden home in the forest, it still took an hour to reach the modest home. The building wasn't the fancy penthouse apartment at 500 Republica on Coruscant, or her parent's sprawling mansion at Lake Varykino on Naboo, or even a palace in Theed, but the little quaint home had become home for her.

The first few months after Mustafar and the twin's birth, it had been nothing but moving from hideout to hideout, dashing from planet to planet all over the Outer Rim. This was the first place she'd settled down with the kids, the first place they could grow up in safety without fear of discovery. The Imperials rarely came to this planet, and when they did, they never visited the forest. Many of the locals claimed the forest was haunted, and though that was ridiculous, Padme was more than happy to allow people to believe that.

They parked the speeders behind the shed before they entered the house. "I'm home!" Padme called, shouldering the squirming pack over her shoulder, as Obi-Wan trudged in behind her.

She didn't have time to process the fact that the house was, as usual, messy with toys strewn everywhere. The moment her voice reverberated throughout the house, two matching squeals of delight echoed through the home. Moments later, her two little toddlers came racing around the corner, followed slowly by her frazzled mother, Jobal.

Padme knelt onto the floor, holding her arms out wide, and the twins immediately jumped into them, showering her with kisses and unintelligible questions. They were, after all, only two. They knew speech, but they often got their words confused, especially when they were excited.

Padme laughed. "Yes, yes, I'm home, little ones." She gave each twin a kiss on their forehead before pulling away just enough to get a better look at them.

Just as she'd left them.

Luke, her firstborn, looked exactly like his father, with sandy-blonde hair, crystal clear blue eyes, and a smile that could brighten up the room. Leia, her youngest, looked more like her, with dark brown hair falling in curls around her angelic face, and dark brown eyes that held the mischievousness of her father. She had a healing scratch on her right arm from falling down after trying to get cookies from the cookie jar on the counter two weeks before.

Padme ruffled their hair, smiling gently at each of them. They were still blabbering every word they could think of. "I'm so glad you two are well," She finally said, kissing their foreheads again. Oh, how she missed them. She hated being away for too long, especially since…

"They're getting stronger in the Force." Her mother said gravely, her blunt assessment making Padme tense.

Padme glanced up at her mother warily before she pulled her pack off of her back and opened the top. "I have a present for you two," Padme said, forcing her voice to remain cheerful. She didn't want to upset the twins. They were, indeed, extremely Force sensitive, both of them inheriting a high midichlorian count from their father, and if they sensed through the Force that she was worried, she didn't even want to think about what they would do.

She reached in and pulled out the Loth-Cat. Immediately, both twin's eyes rounded wide in wonder. "Mama?" Luke said cautiously, reaching out with his little hand to gently stroke the cat's fur. The cat meowed and squirmed out of Padme's grasp, landing in front of the twins gracefully on the floor, it's light gray fur having an almost blue sheen to it. Luke backed up warily, but Leia's gaze stayed glued to the cat.

"It's a kitty." Padme explained. "She's yours to play with."

Leia frowned. "Mine?" Her favorite word since she'd learned it.

"And Luke's." Padme clarified. "Share. This isn't a toy. You need to be nice. See?" She took each of their little hands and gently ran them over the cat's fur coat.

As usual, Leia was the first to warm up. A smile brightened her face. "ITTY!" She yelped, scaring the Loth-Cat into bolting for another room of the house. Forgetting their returned mother, the twins scrambled after it, giggling.

"That poor animal," Obi-Wan mused with a shake of his head, and Padme was glad to hear an edge of humor in his voice. It was rare these days for Obi-Wan to find humor in anything. "Now," He faced Padme's mother. "What makes you say the twins are growing stronger?"

Jobal, who had also been forced to go into hiding with her daughter after Imperial troops had murdered Padme's father, Ruwee, and attempted to murder her as well, crossed her arms. "I don't have to be Force-sensitive to see it. They're using it more and more. I've had to tape down glass dishes so that they don't levitate and break them. And, if they're doing it together, the tape won't stop them."

Padme closed her eyes, running a hand through her hair in frustration. This was what she was afraid of. Luke and Leia were the offspring of the single most powerful Jedi ever in existence. They were Skywalkers. Even as infants, Obi-Wan had worried they would bring too much unwanted attention if they stayed together. Padme refused to separate them however, so Obi-Wan ended up being stuck staying with her to mask the twin's Force-presence.

But, with Padme and Obi-Wan going on missions…

"To make matters worse, Imperials visited the planet just yesterday. They didn't stay long, but they were here. More will come, be sure of it." Her mother added with grave certainty.

Panic gripped Padme, and she had the sudden irrational urge to grab her children and run to a different planet. "Did…did they act like they were searching for something?" Or someone, she thought darkly.

Her mother shook her head. "No. Just a routine visit."

Still, it didn't do much to calm Padme. If Imperials made more visits to the planet, it was only a matter of time when she was off-planet on a mission and someone found out about two Force-sensitives hiding in the forest. To come back and find out that her children had been killed, or worse, taken and turned to the Dark Side like their father…

"I think," Obi-Wan suddenly said, breaking Padme out of her thoughts, "I might have a plan."

Both Padme and Jobal turned to Obi-Wan expectantly. "Oh?" Padme said sharply when he didn't immediately disclose his idea. "What plan is that?"

Obi-Wan smiled a rare smile, a gleam in his eye. "I have this friend…"


	2. Obi-Wan's Friend

Darth Vader entered his private chambers aboard his flagship, the _Executor_, heading immediately for the inner room housing the hologram platform specifically designed for his meetings with the Emperor. As much as he despised these meetings, the Emperor expected a briefing on Vader's findings on Lothal. Waiting would only make Sidious angry, and Vader was _not_ in the frame of mind to deal with his master's notoriously violent mood swings. Or, the Sith lightning often thrown his way if his master was feeling particularly..._aggrieved_.

He input his private frequency coordinates into the console to call the Emperor. As it connected with Coruscant and he waited for the Emperor to accept his holocall, he knelt on the platform on one knee, head bowed, his pose deliberately subservient and deferential, as Sidious demanded. In truth, he was half hoping the Emperor would be busy and ignore the call.

No such luck.

As always, the Emperor answered, appearing in his usual black robed garb. His master _always_ wore that robe to conceal the majority of his disfigurement from the prying eyes of the galaxy, but Vader didn't see much of a point of his wearing the hood to all of _their_ meetings. It wasn't like Vader didn't know what the Emperor now looked like—he had, after all, been there the day it had happened.

Shutting that thought out of his mind, he slammed his mental shields tightly shut, gritted his teeth and bowed his head before his Master. "Master." His voice rumbled from the helmet, distorted, but he made sure it was _still_ a tone of respect. The moment that Sidious even _thought_ that Vader was not humble before him, he would not hesitate to make sure that Vader was humbled, one way or another. Usually _violently._

"Lord Vader. What did you find on Lothal?" Sidious asked. Always straight to the point. Vader did appreciate that about his Master—rarely did their meetings go very long...unless Vader was being punished. Sidious only started off indirect if Vader was to be the subject of his wrath.

Eager to get this meeting over with, Vader looked back up at the flickering image of his Master's face. "The lieutenant was indeed cut down by a lightsaber, my Master." He confirmed, watching and feeling for _any_ hint that Sidious would get angry and lash out at him through the Force. He neither felt nor saw any change in the older man's behavior.

"Was it a Jedi?" Sidious asked, and Vader could hear the sneer of distaste in his Master's voice, though Vader couldn't quite see any changes in his facial expression due to the hood partially covering his face from view.

"There were no disturbances in the Force. I detected no lingering Force presence in the area." Vader explained, "Either it was staged to look like a Jedi-killing, or it _was _a Jedi with a very strong shield on their Force-presence, Master."

"And which do you suspect, Lord Vader?" Sidious asked again, and this time Vader could hear the impatience in his Master's voice. Vader fully understood the message: Get to the point quickly...or else.

"The killer shot the lieutenant in the leg to impede or prevent his escape before killing him. I believe there is a strong possibility that it isn't a Jedi, but rather, someone non- Force sensitive swinging a Jedi weapon."

Sidious mulled over Vader's observation for a moment.

"The Troopers guarding the body. Have they been...taken care of?"

"Yes, my Master." Vader replied.

"And so, there should be _no _issues with regard to rumors about renegade Jedi's assassinating our troops spreading through the Imperial ranks?"

"No, my Master."

"Good, good." From beneath the hood, Sidious frowned. "Very well, my apprentice. Treat this as a minor event for now, but I do expect this assassin to be caught and brought to justice. If you find anymore leads, Lord Vader, inform me immediately."

"Yes, my Master." Vader had barely finished speaking when the transmission was cut, a clear dismissal by the Emperor, and he was left alone kneeling in his chambers.

_Finally_.

He forced himself to his feet with a wince. The black suit the emperor _insisted_ he wear to hide his visage from the galaxy was quite heavy, and kneeling for a long period of time caused quite a bit of stress on his knees. But, it was evening; the Bridge, under the watchful guidance of his second-in-command, General Firmus Piett, a man Vader trusted implicitly, had received all the orders he had for them at that moment, and everything on his ship was working in tip-top shape. He made sure of that before contacting the Emperor. Now, all that was left was to finally get out of the cursed suit and attempt to clear his head for a few, short hours.

The suit took a while to get out of due to the intricate machinery and layers, but eventually he got it off, took a long, cold shower, before drying off and tugging on a simple pair of black sleep pants. He stood in his private fresher, bigger than both his and Obi-Wan's old Jedi quarters combined, running a towel through his unruly, almost shoulder length, dirty blonde locks and headed to the sink to shave the week-old beard he'd allowed to grow. He had grown lazy in regards to shaving—there wasn't a point to now. No one ever saw his face anymore, and the reason he'd kept it shaved as Anakin Skywalker was dead and…

Intense anger and pain hit him, along with a wave of never-ending grief, and he quickly shoved that thought away and roughly turned the water on, focusing on his task. When he finished, he brought the towel up to dry his face, looking critically at the man staring back at him in the mirror. No longer did this new reflection unnerve him: He still had the long curls that he barely kept trimmed, still had the scar over his right eye. That's where the similarities stopped. His skin had paled from the deep tan he'd always had, courtesy of growing up under Tatooine's twin suns, to a much paler tone due to rarely seeing sunlight.

He dropped his gaze lower in the mirror and considered the changes in the rest of his body, and sighed. He was only twenty-five standard years, but he felt much older.

The heavily muscled frame he'd carried as a Padawan and then a Jedi had thinned somewhat over the last two years, due to both a lack of appetite and a lack of truly rigorous exercise. He ate enough to keep himself sustained, but the only thing left on his body were the still maintained and honed muscles he used to fight, but his muscle mass was still much leaner than before. Nothing extra. He had dark circles from lack of rest under his eyes.

His eyes.

His eyes were no longer the brilliant crystalline blue of the Nabooian sky. He couldn't remember the last time they were. Instead, they were Sith-gold, rimmed red.

He was a totally different person now than who he'd once been. Anakin Skywalker was dead. He had died that horrible night on Mustafar two years ago, along with…

Another flash of anger, of pain, of _grief, _pierced him. This time, the mirror cracked, the image of himself distorting along with it. Sighing in disgust, he turned and left the fresher. Yet _another_ mirror to replace.

His actual bedchamber was even bigger than his fresher, but empty except for a bed large enough for three people, a bedside stand where a chrono and his commlink were kept, and a long cushion on the window seat that overlooked the endless span of space at the viewport. It was meticulously clean, as if no one had _ever_ lived in the room, no hint of a personality of its sole occupant.

Vader preferred it that way.

Deciding, as usual, that sleep would only cause him _less_ rest than anything else, Vader strode to the cushion on the window seat and sat down, crossing his legs. Sleep was too often plagued by nightmares, terrifying visions of the past, of the future...and sleeping in that monstrosity of a bed...well, it was too empty, too soulless without…

Forcing that thought from his mind, Vader, therefore, turned to meditation, something he had _hated _doing as a Jedi, but found solace in as a Sith Lord. Reaching deeply into the Force, he slipped into the trance easily, the darkness surrounding him, soothing his soul, rejuvenating his body and mind. There was nothing but glorious darkness, nothing but his own desire for power, to forget his past and fully embrace the monster his Master needed him to be to achieve total control of the galaxy…

And then…there wasn't _just_ darkness. Images came unbidden into his mind, images that were all too familiar. _No! Not here, not now! _Vader thought, trying to slip back out of meditation, but as he tried to pull away, the Force seemed to wrap around him tighter, to hold fast to him, bringing the images into stronger, sharper focus.

Mace Windu was there, about to murder Sidious, but Vader's old lightsaber was slashing through the older Jedi's wrists, stopping him. He stood in the darkened council room, watching as the Younglings came out of hiding behind the Council's cushioned chairs, looking at him, as they always had, like he had every answer in the world to their problems. "Master Skywalker," The boldest of them, a blonde boy, said, coming forth to meet him. "There are too many of them. What are we going to do?" He waited for him to answer, looking at him with complete trust. He felt himself hesitate before he ignited his lightsaber, making the boy step back, confusion flitting over his little face. As he cut the boy down, the screaming and crying began, and…

He was on Mustafar. Obi-Wan stood there on the ramp to Padme's ship, glaring at him. The intent was clear in his eyes—he was there to kill his former Padawan. And, Padme…had she brought him? Had she betrayed him? He was so overcome with rage, he lashed out at his heavily pregnant wife, choking her with the Force as she began to declare her innocence, to protest her involvement. He wasn't thinking clearly. Everything was happening so fast.

Everyone….He had….and _now_…

Vader finally broke free, slamming back into reality, breathing in tortured, rasping gasps. His body was coated in a thick sheen of sweat, and he practically tumbled off of the cushion and onto the carpeted floor, his entire body shaking. Distantly, he could feel Sidious' annoyance and disdain through his Force connection with him, but he knew his Master would understand what was going on with his apprentice and ignore it.

Because, like _all_ the other times he'd been plagued with those memories, it had only fueled his anger, his need to throw himself into what he'd betrayed everyone and everything so dear to him for.

Still, he hadn't had a dream like that in over a year, and never during meditation. Not once. It was the reason he refused to sleep if he could help it. But, during mediation…?

He forced himself to stop shaking, channeling that awful guilt into anger to drown it out.

No longer was he the Chosen One, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, husband, father, brother, and friend.

No.

He was Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith. He commanded the entire Imperial Fleet. He instilled terror wherever he went. No one challenged him, because those who did were destroyed. _He_ was now the one hunting down the cowardly Jedi who still remained and ran from their fate at his hand. _He_ was the one who almost single-handedly brought justice and order to the Galaxy.

So why, then, did he suddenly feel like _he_ was the one running from something...something he couldn't _see _but could vaguely _sense_ through the Force?

The feeling was as disturbing as it was elusive, and left the Dark Lord with more questions than answers.

* * *

* * *

It was evening when he came.

Padme had helped put her nieces to bed before. They had always been so happy that their aunt was putting them to bed that Padme thought bedtime would be easy.

She was wrong. So very wrong.

Perhaps it was because they were twins. Perhaps it was because they were Force-Sensitive. Perhaps it was because they were the children of the two _most_ stubborn individuals in the galaxy. Whatever the reason, Padme _always_ had to go into battle mode to get her twins to go to bed.

Obi-Wan helped sometimes. He tried coaxing them to calm down enough to sleep, or at least be quiet, through the Force. It worked on Luke, until it _didn't_ work on Leia, and then they were _both_ running around the house, looking for every conceivable excuse _not_ to go to bed.

"Old you, Mama, old you!" Luke said.

Ahhh, yes. Luke's _favorite_ way to try to sucker Padme into letting him stay awake. He reached his little arms up, wanting to be held, his eyes sparkling like the Nabooian falls (which his mother found as difficult to resist as she had his father's), but Padme knew that giving into her son's demands would only give him more excuses not to go to bed.

"Not now, Luke. In the morning, Sweet Boy." She promised him with a sigh, putting him back into his crib. It didn't matter that the twins still slept in a crib: They could easily get out of it. _Far _too easily, thanks to the Force. If she wasn't worried about them falling out of a bed in their sleep, she might have had Obi-Wan run out for their first actual beds already.

Luke pouted, that mischievous glint in his cerulean blue eyes, so much like Anakin's. Padme knew. She just _knew_ that the moment she left the room, Luke and Leia would break free of their cribs.

"Luke," Padme began, but her mother walked into the room, her face pale. Immediately, Padme's insides froze, her hand going to the lightsaber attached to her belt. "What is it?"

"He's here." Jobal said, and as Padme's frantic mind began to picture the black-masked monster they were hiding from, she clarified, "Obi-Wan's...um..._friend."_

Padme relaxed. "Jeez, Mom," she groaned, "Did you have to make it sound like the Empire's forces were at our door?"

"Oh. Sorry, but he's still…_well_. Listen, why don't I take over from here? Or, attempt to. You go and see Obi-Wan's friend."

Padme smiled gratefully at her mother. "May the Force be with you," She told her mother seriously.

Jobal rolled her eyes, but there was a small, sad smile on her face. There seemed to always be sadness in her mother these days. "Thanks. I'm going to need all the help I can get with these two."

Padme headed back out into the living room, her mind whirling with possibilities. Who had Obi-Wan sent for? Obviously, he or she _must_ be Force-Sensitive. Her mind went over all of the Jedi she'd known personally, or ever heard Anakin mention, in the days of the Republic. Most of them were dead, thanks to Sidious' vile extermination plot, dubbed _Order 66._ The few who were still alive, having escaped the purges, were strong in the Force, yes, but they were _all_ in hiding from the Empire.

Whoever it was…

She rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks, staring wide-eyed.

…was _very _strong in the Force.

_Strong indeed._

"Senator Amidala," The Grandmaster himself, Yoda, greeted her with a smile, "Greetings to you."

He stood there in her living room, small, wrinkled with age, wearing his very worn-out Jedi robe, but he _still_ seemed to be the most vibrantly alive presence in the household. Padme was not Force-sensitive, but even _she_ could feel, rather than see, the power and wisdom the ancient Jedi radiated. "Master Yoda," She said, and she couldn't help but begin to smile, _genuinely_ smile. "It's _so_ good to see you again. It's been a while. _Too_long, really."

Yoda nodded his head, smiling a little. "Good to see you, Senator, it is." He replied, leaning on his cane. "Master Obi-Wan is not here?"

Of course, he would sense that. "No, he went to scout out the area to make sure no Imperials or other unwanted visitors are coming near the home. You just missed him."

Again, Yoda nodded. "Sent for me, he did. The Skywalker children are getting too strong, he said. Correct, is he?"

There was a seriousness in Yoda's gold-green eyes that suddenly made Padme bristle with worry. As much as she admired Yoda and respected him, she also was well aware of how Yoda viewed her keeping both of the twins together and raising them herself. He'd expressed that opinion within moments after they were born, before they'd gone into hiding. But, she could not..._would not_...lie to the Jedi Grandmaster, either. Yoda knew things that most live sentients didn't know. She had always suspected that he knew of her forbidden relationship with Anakin, but she'd never gotten the courage up to ask.

"He is correct, Master." She confirmed reluctantly, nodding her head once slowly. Over the few days since she'd come home, even _she_ had begun to see that fact and could not deny it. The twins were levitating anything and everything they desired, and they were quite clearly communicating with each other through the Force. It wouldn't be long before they began to try other things with their growing abilities, things that would inevitably draw immediate attention to their presence, either from the Emperor…

Or worse...Darth Vader himself.

Yoda frowned, clearly troubled by this news. "Padme," he began softly, and she knew immediately that he was about to say something that she didn't, and _wouldn't,_ want to hear. "Separated, the twins should be. Strong in the Force, each of them are, just like their father. Much stronger together, they will be."

"No." Padme insisted. "They're…they're _not_ like other Force-sensitives. They're the children of the Chosen One, and twins at that. They have a bond that _no one_ can fully understand, myself included. It would destroy them to be separated."

She could see the disagreement in Yoda's eyes, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he suggested, "To Dagobah, they should go then. Shield them, the planet will."

That had also been discussed before. Padme may have been open to that, except that it meant leaving _her_. To take them to Dagobah, Yoda would be starting a new Jedi Order, which would have included not only the training of a Jedi...but the _lifestyle_ of a Jedi as well.

She'd seen how that turned out, and she wouldn't do it. She _refused_ to shackle her children to the Order as their father had been, constrained by its antiquated ideals, resigned to a life of emotionless servitude to the galaxy...A life devoid of family, of happiness...of_ love._

"Part of the reason Anakin became so obsessed with holding onto those he loved was because he was taken from his mother and ordered _never_ to see or have contact with her again, to _let go_ of and _forget _his love for her. My children may be young, Master Yoda, but I _won't _risk them developing that same worry and frustration and put them into the _same_ lifestyle that ultimately destroyed their father." She shook her head. "No. They will have as _normal_ a life as possible. They will learn to _love_ and know the tremendous joy that brings into their lives. If they choose to become Jedi when they're adults, then so be it. Until then, they will remain with me."

"Hmm," Yoda was still frowning, his disapproval evident on his face. "Talk of separation, you do. Willingly putting yourself in danger, you are. Separated from you, they may one day be."

His words hit home.

It was a worry that she had every time she had left home for training to become the Rebellion's assassin. It was something she had fretted about the _entire _journey to Lothal. It was something that had fueled her hasty escape from Lothal after she had killed the Lieutenant. If she were caught, her children would be left orphans. They would lose the _only_ parent they knew, and if that caused them problems with letting go in the future like their father…

Padme shuddered.

She didn't want to even _think _about it. She didn't want to address that fear with Yoda. Not now. "They're staying with me. That is final." She reiterated through numb lips, her jaw set with determination. Yoda sighed, but even_ he_ knew that Padme was not going to budge one iota on this matter. Her tenacity had been renowned as a senator.

It was a quality she still had in spades.

"Stay I will, then. Protect them, I must." He studied her critically. "Train you as well, I must."

That threw Padme for a loop. "Wait," she said, "What?"

"Just as the galaxy needs the Skywalker children, they need you. A beacon of hope for the common people, you are. Die, you must not." Yoda explained patiently.

"But I've been trained. I've been trained by the top assassins in the galaxy. I've been trained to use a lightsaber by Obi-Wan. I'm going on missions now, how much more do I need to learn?" It wasn't that she didn't want to be trained by Yoda, but it was rather intimidating. He was wise beyond his years, and strong, too.

"Stronger, you must become, if you intend to free the galaxy of the Empire. The same mistakes as your husband, you must not make." Padme knew what he was referring to. Anakin was confident in his abilities, a confidence that had often kept him alive, but had also limited him in many aspects.

It was yet another reason behind his death.

Reluctantly, she nodded. "Alright," she began, "When do we…"

Suddenly, the Loth-cat (that the twins had affectionately named "Kitty") sprinted around the corner, making a mad dash for the underside of the couch. Hot on its heels were none other than Luke and Leia, giggling in delight, while her mother rushed to catch up with the rambunctious twins. "Get back here right this instant, you two!" Jobal huffed.

Kitty managed to get to the couch, dashing underneath it, and both Luke and Leia scrambled to a halt, peering underneath the couch at the cat. "Luke," Padme said firmly, "Leia."

Both of the twins tensed, and slowly, as if noticing for the first time, they turned to face their mother. Padme put her hands on her hips. "Just what do you two think you're doing out of bed?"

Leia, at least, was honest in her response. She pointed under the couch. "Kitty." She proclaimed. "Want Kitty, Mama."

Luke defaulted back to his usual excuse. He held up his arms. "Hold you, mama. Hold you."

"Don't you lie to me, Luke." Padme scolded, going to each of them and picking them up, wincing at their weight. They were getting heavy, almost too heavy for her to hold both of them at the same time. It filled her with a sense of longing—it seemed like only just yesterday that they were tiny, easily held in her arms, staring at her with their wide, intelligent eyes. They were growing too fast.

"Sowwy mama." Luke said, but he didn't seem very apologetic about it. In fact, he seemed happier that he was now being held by his mother, just as he claimed to want.

Padme sighed and turned, finding Yoda studying the children intently. "Luke, Leia," Padme began as the children noticed the other Jedi in the room. Both of them immediately tensed, moving a bit closer into her side as if that would protect them somehow. It was not often that they met a stranger, particularly one of another species. "This is Master Yoda. He's going to be staying with us to help us stay safe."

She had no idea how much the twins understood of what she said, but both of them looked at each other warily and then back at Yoda. "Bob?" Luke whispered, and Padme groaned in embarrassment.

"Bob?" Yoda questioned, but there was a smile on his face now. Yoda was also very good with children. Perhaps that was another reason why Obi-Wan had called the Grand Master here.

"Bob." Luke said, this time more firmly.

"Bob," Padme explained slowly, not sure how the Jedi Master would react, "Is the frog Luke found the other day. He named him Bob." And apparently, Luke had decided that Yoda looked like Bob the frog.

To her relief, the Jedi Master didn't seem to take that offensively at all. He began to chuckle. "Bob, I am not. Find Bob, perhaps we will." This seemed to satisfy Luke, and Padme could feel him relax a little in her arms.

"Well." Padme said, "I need to try to put these two to bed." She glanced at her frazzled mother. "My mother will show you around. Please, make yourself at home."

"Thank you, Padme." Yoda smiled. Padme looked at him for a moment, reflecting on the strange turn of events their lives had taken, again, before she turned and brought the children back to their room to be put to bed.


	3. The Mining Compound

"How did I get stuck on sniper duty?" Obi-Wan grumbled, looking at the weapon in his hand in distaste. "Need I remind you, I'm a Jedi, _not _an assassin." Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow, and shot her a pointed look, his mouth tilted in a grimace.

Padme sighed, knowing how Obi-Wan felt about blasters of any kind: Uncivilized, random, needlessly catastrophic. But, it was Captain Rex who answered for her. "Because, General, my team is going to go in with our Assassin, Nightblade, here," Rex jerked his head toward Padme, "And make sure she doesn't get overwhelmed. If we have _two_ people charging in with lightsabers blazing, the Empire is going to direct a very keen interest on _this_ unit. And, we just don't have the manpower for that yet, Sir." Obi-Wan still didn't look happy about it, but he sighed and nodded his head in acknowledgment of the truth of Rex's statement.

Padme understood Obi-Wan's reservations: As a Jedi, he wasn't fond of taking human lives. To be honest, she wasn't either. But, this was _war_, and war was not kind to soldiers on either side of the battle. The time had long since passed for negotiations. The time now was for what her late husband would have referred to as "aggressive negotiations."

Seeing that Obi-Wan _still_ wasn't happy, Rex sighed. "If you incapacitate them so they can't run, my men and I will finish them off, General."

"But…" Obi-Wan started, and this time Padme cut him off.

"Obi-Wan, listen to me. These Imperials are _slavers_. Cruel ones at that. The people we're saving down there are _slaves_. We are here to _help_ them...and take down this Imperial operation at the same time. This is the _only_ way these people going to be free." Not to mention, some of them might actually join the still fledgling rebellion, making it stronger. She would do what she had to do to get into the compound, help Rex's team free the slaves, and then complete _her_ assigned mission to assassinate the Colonel who had command over this outpost.

She also had been given her own, specific orders: Leave **no **witnesses. Period.

Making sure that her mask was firmly in place over the lower half of her face, and that her black hood was snuggly over her head, she peeked her head over the cliff side to look down into the mining complex. The complex was backed up against the cliff side, with three massive, thick walls surrounding the rest of the complex, guards walking the tops of them, faithfully guarding the entrance down into the mines.

She pulled back, glancing back at Obi-Wan and Rex, and the men Rex had brought, all dressed in black like the three of them, getting the gear ready for them to rappel down the side of the cliff once the distraction was set off. "The bomb is in place?" She whispered, her eyes meeting Rex's. The clone grinned, a humorless grin, a wild glint in his eye. There was a reason why he'd served so well under Anakin—Anakin had told her so many impressive stories about the man, that when the Rebellion had assigned him to help her on this mission, she was almost _eager_ to finally work with him.

Too bad he didn't know her true identity...or that she had been Anakin's wife. Only Obi-Wan knew. It would have been nice to talk to someone about her beloved late husband who wouldn't get closed off and automatically remind her of what had happened to him. As far as Rex knew, she and Anakin had both died during the Purges. She wondered what he would say if he knew that the Rebellion's assassin that he would be fighting with today was his former general's secret wife and the ex-senator from Naboo.

"Everything is in place." Rex assured her with with a nod. "When we're ready to rappel down, I'll set it into motion." He shot a look at Obi-Wan. "This is war, General. People die. Let's make sure that tonight, it's the bad people who are the ones dying."

Obi-Wan sighed, getting into his position, the long-range blaster with its highly illegal scope attached, in his hands. "You don't have to worry about me, Rex. I'll make sure you're covered while you're above ground. But, once you're below," he shot Padme a warning look. "Be very, _very _careful. Watch each other's backs down there."

Padme said nothing, understanding that the warning was primarily for _her. _She didn't need to tell Obi-Wan that she would _die_ before letting herself fall into the hands of the Empire. She wouldn't give the Emperor _any _reason to suspect that the assassin he would come to hate and fear was, in fact, the wife of the man he had destroyed.

Making sure that Anakin's lightsaber was clipped to her belt, she began to strap herself into the rappel gear, her body tight with anticipation. As soon as that distraction went off, they would have very little time to make it down the cliff before the Stormtroopers realized that it was a trap.

When Rex was sure that his team was ready to go, he met her eyes, pulling out a small detonator. "Ready, Nightblade?" He asked, his voice low, but his eyes sparkling in the moonlight with an almost wild eagerness.

"I'm ready. Let's go." She replied, moving herself into position. The other rebels did the same. She glanced one more time at Obi-Wan, but he was focused on the targets below him.

There was a pause, and then…

A massive, fiery explosion, rigged on the far side of the compound went off. It lit up the midnight sky, an orange plume of fire rolling upward in a huge pillar of flames, and as Padme moved, rappelling quickly down the cliff side as quickly as it was safe to do so, she could hear the shouts and screams of alarm. Moments later, a repetitive, high-pitched alarm squealed from speakers throughout the complex, summoning forth more Stormtroopers out of the belly of the mines.

By then, they had already reached the ground, ducking for cover behind supply crates. "This is your first assault mission, isn't it, Nightblade?" Rex asked as Padme peered around the edge of the crates, watching the Imperials running with their blasters drawn towards the gates of the compound.

An image flashed through her mind: The Battle of Geonosis. Being outnumbered. Fighting side-by-side with Anakin and the rest of the Jedi, sure that the end was near. "It isn't my first battle, no." She replied softly, turning back to look at the rebels. "Are you ready?"

"Nightblade," Rex said seriously, "We were _born _ready." Fighting back a smirk, Padme nodded, pulling the lightsaber from her belt and igniting it with with a _snap-hiss_, the brilliant blue blade shimmering in the dark of night. As she did so, she watched as Rex drew his attention to it, his eyes lighting in recognition, and she inwardly cursed herself. Of _course_, he would recognize Anakin's lightsaber. He had only seen it used almost every single day during the Clone Wars. But, though he flicked a questioning look at her masked face, Rex said nothing, and Padme didn't have time to consider the implications of Rex's realization. Instead, she took a deep breath, focused her energy, and turned the corner and charged.

The troopers didn't even know what hit them.

Her lightsaber sliced with precision, skill, and strength through their white armor like paper, and she cut down the first few with no resistance. Blaster fire erupted from the rebels at her back, taking others nearby down. She moved quickly with agility and speed, moving onto the next target before the one she'd just cut down had hit the ground. By the time the troopers had turned around to attempt an offensive, the rebels had already cut down a sizable number of them.

Blaster fire began to rain back, and without even flinching, Padme easily slipped from an offensive to a defensive position, using the lightsaber to skillfully deflect the bolts back to their owners with ease. Obi-Wan's rather rigorous saber training was paying off—her body practically moved of its own accord, fluidly, gracefully, like the saber was an extension of her body.

What she lacked in Force-sensitive abilities, her team made up for in their natural, ingrained abilities. Rex's men picked off troopers as they came running back through the relatively narrow gate. Any troops that were missed would shortly crumple to the ground, incapacitated, from Obi-Wan's sniper cover above them. Those troops were quickly finished off by either Padme's saber, or one of the Rebels.

As the battle above ground began to dwindle, Padme turned her attention to getting below ground. "Rex." She barked through her mask, "I'm going below."

Rex took out another trooper. "Alright, I'll get some men and cover you." He glanced over at her, and she _swore _she could read the suspicion in his eyes. As a soldier, he likely hadn't given more than a passing thought to Padme's identity: It hadn't been important to the mission. But _now_, after having seen the lightsaber up close…

Well, she would have to worry about that later.

Now, she had a job to do.

She whirled, sprinting across the compound for the tunnel leading down into the mines. A few emerging storm troopers were rushing up to meet her, blasters drawn. "Over there!" One said in his almost mechanical voice, and he opened fire on her. Without slowing, Padme deflected the bolts, though she wasn't _quite_ as adept to move them back to their original origin while running.

Obi-Wan took care of that. One blast to the trooper's leg, and he was down with a shout of pain. Padme didn't let the other trooper recover enough to try to shoot at her: She leapt onto him, her legs wrapping around his chest plate, and using her other hand, she whipped out one of the daggers hidden in her form-fitting armor, and stabbed it into the space between the trooper's neck and shoulder plate.

Blood sprayed out in a gush. The trooper gurgled, choking on his own blood as his body tensed, and he dropped to the ground. In one fluid movement, Padme released her hold on him, falling to the ground in a roll, igniting the lightsaber again to decapitate the trooper Obi-Wan had taken out, finishing the job. She was back on her feet in a flash and sprinting down the ramp a split second later, Rex and two other Rebels hot on her heels.

"Well," Rex muttered under his breath, "Looks like you didn't need much of _our_ help."

"Nonsense," Padme said as she switched her dagger for her blaster, taking out yet another Imperial. "I can't take on an _entire_ compound by myself."

"I don't know about _that_," Rex muttered. As they left the winding ramp and emerged into the open cavern, Rex began to rain heavy blaster fire upon the guards that were left. "Be careful not to hit_ any_ of the slaves, boys!" Rex shouted to his men.

"Yes, sir!" They acknowledged.

Padme wasted no time in pressing forward. Though the mask that covered the lower half of her face filtered out smoke and toxins, it did _nothing_ to suppress the thick, pungent stench of human excrement, urine, and filth. All around them, far outnumbering the guards, were slaves, humans and aliens alike, who had been rounded up and subjugated by the Empire from across the galaxy. All of them wore filthy tattered rags for clothing. Many of them were shoeless and were nothing more than skin and bones, their skin so coated with dirt from mining all day, that they hardly looked like living beings at all. As she ran past, swiftly killing the guards that were futilely trying to keep her from freeing them, many of the slaves looked at her with a mixture of awe and fear, or wariness, as if they couldn't quite believe that their salvation was at hand.

A mental picture of the dear young boy she had met in Watto's shop all those years ago on Tatooine flashed through her head, and she pushed the image away stubbornly. Rex and his men would help free _them_ now that she'd cleared the path of Imperials. She refocused her attention. She _had_ to get to the command center and carry out her orders.

If she didn't, _none_ of them would be leaving this planet alive.

As she left the noises of the main battle behind, she found herself running through twisting caverns, lit only by flickering torchlight. She hardly slowed down. These caves had been mapped out even before the Empire took them over for their own purposes. She had memorized the entire layout before they'd even arrived on the planet. She knew where to go, even if it was pitch black. A few more turns, and she was finally approaching a set of crude, metal doors. The command center. She placed a gloved hand on the handles and pulled.

Locked.

As if _that _would stop her.

Igniting her lightsaber, she lunged forward with purpose and dug the weapon into the thin metal, the blade slicing through it easily. As a result, it didn't take long for her to cut out the locking mechanism, and she kicked the door open.

Blaster fire erupted, though there were only a few high-ranking imperials who were cornered in the room. _Four_, _to be precise_, she thought as she deflected their bolts easily. She took out two that way, advancing her way in, the rest of the laser bolts deflected so as to destroy various instruments that were around the room.

As she got close enough, one of the Imperials turned, pressing frantically on a comlink. "Where's that back up, where—" she twirled in an arc and sliced her lightsaber clean through him, cutting him off. His body slumped onto the control panel, lights whirling with various alarms as she turned on the last Imperial.

Her target. The Colonel.

He was visibly shaking, still pointing his blaster at her, but he was no longer firing it. "P-please," He uttered, "Have mercy!"

"Your people had no mercy on these slaves," She snarled, "Your people had no mercy on the _Jedi_ you murdered, or _any_ of the other countless innocent lives across the galaxy killed in the name of the Empire! _Why _should I show _you _any mercy?"

He didn't answer. He _couldn't_ answer. She watched the realization that he had no good answer to save himself with fall over his expression, and the blaster clattered to the floor, useless. The fight was over, and he knew it.

Advancing on him quickly, she stabbed the lightsaber through his gut without another word, and as she watched pain contort and twist his face, his mouth opening in a wordless scream of agony, she slashed the blade upward to his chest, stopping right below his heart, before yanking it back out with tremendous force and sheathing the blade.

The Colonel fell to the floor at her feet, staring up at her, the light fading from his eyes. She paused, watching, something inside her, something she had thought died two years before, stirring within her. Was it guilt? Was it a sense that _all _of this, what she was doing for the Rebellion, was _wrong_?

No, she decided, shaking her head and stepping over the body to approach the beeping control panel. The Empire had created a government in which violence was the _only _way to lift their ironclad control and evil oppression of the galaxy. Maybe someday the galaxy would go back to a time when peaceful negotiation could solve their problems. She hoped so, but that day was not _this_ day. In the meantime, she would do what she needed to do to help the Rebellion destroy the Empire.

Fingers running over the controls, she killed all the alarms, plunging the room into silence, before she opened up the Mine's video feed and began to systematically delete _all_ of the footage. Her comlink beeped.

"Yes?" She answered, holding the comlink with her free hand.

"Is it done?" Obi-Wan's voice asked.

"It's done, but they called for backup. We need to finish freeing the slaves and get everyone out of here. Are those transport ships ready?" Done. The footage was erased. Anyone coming to help would find no visible proof of _who _exactly had attacked the complex. She turned and began to jog back toward the cavern.

There was a pause, and Padme wondered if Obi-Wan was worried about the backup, or if he was digesting the reality in which she had become someone different. "They're ready. You're all clear for now, but I'll keep an eye out for backup."

"Alright. I'll see you soon. Nightblade, out." She shut the comlink off as she entered the cavern, rushing through the cavern tunnels to join Rex and his men freeing the rest of the slaves.

* * *

Vader had been on plenty of battlefields in his lifetime. As of late, he had been the driving force behind the death and destruction left behind after a battle. But today, as he strode down the ramp of his personal shuttle and took his first look at the mine, he almost swore.

The stench of death was staggering.

The complex was littered with the bodies of Stormtroopers, even from the outside. The unit that had responded to the mine's call for help was in the process of pulling the bodies into a mass pile, ready for burning. As much as Vader despised places like this, places that used _slaves, _he still clenched his jaw in anger at seeing so many of the Empire's men dead.

With a quick look around, Vader did not see any Rebel bodies. That was _most_ displeasing.

"Lord Vader," An officer greeted him with a sharp salute, and though he did not show any outward sign of fear when looking upon the Dark Lord, Vader could sense his fear permeating through the Force. "Thank you for your swift response."

Vader rolled his eyes, though the gesture was lost behind the mask. "Show me the bodies." He snapped, getting to the point. He didn't particularly _like_ getting interrupted in his own duties with a distress call from a slaver unit complaining about an attack by a Jedi.

"Yes, Sir!" Vader could see the sweat running down the man's temple as he turned and led Vader to the far end of the compound where another row of bodies had been laid out. Vader clenched his fists: If his Master would let him, he would destroy these slavers _himself_. Vader despised slavery: It was the _one_ aspect of the Empire he truly _hated, _and it was something that he had been _trying_ to convince Darth Sidious to get rid of since he had become his apprentice. To no avail.

Yet.

When the day came, for come it _would_,Vader averred, _he _would exact vengeance upon any world who had partaken in slavery. Starting with Tatooine.

Clearing those thoughts from his head, Vader stopped at the row of bodies. They ranged anywhere between regular Stormtroopers to two higher ranked officers.

Including the Colonel.

Immediately, Vader identified the tell-tale marks of a cauterized saber-wound. Many of the men had been completely severed, their limbs grouped together with the respective bodies. Some of them had blaster wounds in their legs, just like the Lieutenant on Lothal.

It was the body of the Colonel that gave Vader pause, however.

The Colonel had been initially stabbed in the gut. Even now, the man's face was frozen in an expression of terrible pain. If Vader concentrated enough, he could almost _feel_ the man's terror still lingering in the Force, though it had been over twenty-four hours since the man had died. But, what bothered Vader the _most _was that the blade had then been dragged up into the man's chest. A most painful death indeed.

A painful death that was certainly _not_ the Jedi way.

Stretching out with his senses, he tried to find _any_ trace of the Force. Unlike before on Lothal, there _was_ a faint signature this time, but it had been well-guarded. He couldn't identify the trace, other than…

He glanced up at the cliff. It came from up there, from the top.

"The Colonel." Vader's voice rumbled through the mask, "Where did he die?"

"The control room, sir." The officer replied.

Did the Force-wielder leave the cover of the cliff? Vader wondered, turning back to the bodies. Somehow, he didn't think they did. "Do not follow me." Vader ordered, turning and heading towards the entrance to the mines.

"Y-Yes, Sir." The man's first hesitation since Vader had arrived. Impressive. Had he questioned the order, he would have found himself dead.

Vader entered the cavern below. There were a few Stormtroopers dragging more bodies to the surface, but other than that, the mine was empty. The slaves, Vader knew from the report, had been freed and had escaped. Though Vader would never admit it aloud, he was almost _glad_ that they had made it out.

His suspicions about the Force-sensitive individual were correct: They hadn't left that cliff. Whoever had killed these men with the lightsaber, it hadn't been the Force-wielder. The pathetic excuse for metal doors had a large hole where the door handles had been, the edges of it melted. Vader knew from his own experience that cutting through doors that thin would have taken mere moments with a lightsaber.

He used the Force to push the doors open with a bang, making another officer at the control panel jump around in surprise, his face paling at the sight of the Dark Lord. "L-Lord Vader," He stammered, moving to attention, "I was just checking to see if we could pull the security footage…"

"And can we?" Vader interrupted, though he was hardly paying the man any attention. He was reaching out through the Force, looking for another Force-signature…

There was none. Again.

"N-no, Sir," the man reluctantly admitted, flinching. No doubt he had heard of what happened to those who displeased Vader. "All footage has been erased."

So. The assassin didn't want to be identified. Not surprising. If the control panel was only looked through by the Imperial officers, the assassin might have gotten away with it.

But, Vader was no simple Imperial officer with a rudimentary knowledge of electronics. "Get out." Vader snapped at the man. The man flinched and hesitated, as if deciding on whether or not to insist that the control panel was, indeed, a dead end. Not wanting to repeat himself, but also not wanting to deal with yet another dead body, Vader casually shifted his cloak, revealing the lightsaber attached to his belt.

That's all it took. The man nodded. "Yes, My Lord." He said with a salute, and headed as casually as he could out of the room. The moment he passed Vader, though, he could hear the man's footsteps quicken. A wise decision.

Vader approached the control panel with a sigh, his eyes already taking in the damaged circuitry. Though the world had changed quite a bit over the years, one thing always remained blessedly the same: Electronics. Sure, the technology updated frequently, but Vader knew how to work it as if it were a second language that he was fluent in. It came as naturally to him as...well, _the Force._

The control panel was no different. It didn't take long for Vader to figure out where the backup storage was, and he was quickly able to pull the backup video feed.

He paused, debating on watching the footage here and now, but with each passing moment, more and more questions would arise from the clean up crew above. It was already a shame that there were so many witnesses to this..._mess_. If he were to wipe out the entire troop…_well_. He could. He had done so before. But, Sidious was getting tired of Vader's mass destruction of their own troops. They still had to recruit new troops, and it would be hard to do so with stories of Vader killing _entire_ platoons, running around the galaxy.

No. The Emperor was already going to have an issue with the rumor of a successful Jedi attack on the mining compound. Vader knew that if his focus wasn't finding this assassin before, it certainly would be _now_. The longer he waited to contact the Emperor to discuss these findings, the angrier the Emperor would be.

So instead, Vader copied all of the footage to a data rod. He would watch it in the privacy of his own quarters on board his ship, the _Executor_, he decided. He would make his plans from there. And, when he found this assassin, and find them Vader _knew_ he would, then he would be _sure _to make them a public example for the _entire _galaxy to see for what they'd done today.

The message would be clear. Attack the Empire at your _own_ peril.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you're new to me, you should know that I have playlists for all of my stories and often a specific song that for me helped me envision the scenes in that chapter. It ranges from John Williams to metal to rap to everything in between, so my "chapter songs" are like all over the place.   
Anyhow, the song for this chapter is, "Escape from the Embassy" by John Powell from the Movie The Bourne Identity.   
Leave some love! <3


	4. Confusion

_Finally_, the twins were asleep. Padme breathed a sigh of relief as she slowly, carefully closed the door so as not to wake them up, and thus have to start the painfully _long_ process of putting them to bed all over again. She paused for a moment, waiting to see if the soft _click _of the door had woken them, but she heard nothing. The tension in her muscles relaxed, and she softly tip-toed back out into the kitchen where Obi-Wan and Yoda sat drinking a cup of hot chocolate, her mother, Jobal, already having gone to bed.

"The children were good for you?" Padme asked Yoda, keeping her voice low.

Yoda smiled softly, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mirth. "Have your hands full, you do. That, I now see." He paused, his eyes growing somber as he examined her closely for a moment over the rim of his cup. Padme had a sinking suspicion that she _wasn't_ going to like what he had to say next. "Very strong in the Force, they are. Only stronger, will they grow. Hidden, they must be, or the Dark Side…"

"They _are_ hidden, Master," She knew it was rude to interrupt, especially a Jedi Grandmaster, but she didn't want to hear anymore of what he had to say on _that_ particular subject. "And, they'll _stay_ hidden. With _me_." Padme spoke with conviction, her voice firm and uncompromising, her eyes filled with steely determination.

Yoda glanced at Obi-Wan, who only raised his eyebrows. "I told you." He said.

"Doubt you, I did not." He looked back at Padme, his eyes slightly narrowed. She braced herself, ready to defend her decision, but he said nothing more on the subject. "How fared your mission, hmm?" She hesitated, glancing down at her clasped hands resting on the tabletop. She had given her briefing to Bail Organa to deliver to the Rebel Alliance before returning home.

Technically, she was _supposed_ to keep these missions top secret. However, this was Yoda. She hadn't _exactly_ informed the Rebellion leadership that Yoda was protecting her children while she was on missions, but she suspected that if they knew, they wouldn't object to her telling _him_ of what had transpired on her missions. He was likely the most trustworthy being in the galaxy…well, in the _Alliance's_ eyes anyway.

So, she told him. She told him just as she had when giving her report to Bail: With cold meticulous efficiency. It had been _drilled_ into her throughout her training until it seemed seeped into her very _soul_. It was _expected_ of the Rebellion's Assassin to be emotionally unattached to the situation. This _was_, after all, a war, and death always followed in war's footsteps. To become attached in _any_ way would cause her to falter, and if she faltered, she could be killed, or worse, captured by the Empire, possibly jeopardizing the _entire _Rebellion.

But, here, sitting in the comfort of the place she had forced herself to call home, she felt that detachment waiver- just a _touch- _as she told Yoda of the slaves the Empire had been keeping there in the mines of Elom. She finally trailed off with a vague wave of her hand. "We set them _all_ free," she said quietly, "But, there were _so very_ many who were in critical condition. They likely won't survive, Master."

"The Empire is not known for treating their slaves with kindness." Obi-Wan sagely pointed out. "We knew this would likely be the outcome before we ever touched down on that planet."

Padme nodded slightly. "I know, Obi-Wan. It's just…" She hesitated. Did she _really_ want to bring this up? Now? It had troubled her since the moment they had rescued the slaves, and she'd taken a good hard look at them, at the conditions in which they were found. The reality of what the Empire had done to the galaxy, helplessly staring at her right in the face…She turned her head away, staring out the kitchen window into the darkness of the forest surrounding their home, a single tear silently slid down her cheek. When she spoke, her voice was but a whisper, "It's just that I truly know _now_ that he's gone_._"

Neither Jedi spoke, though they exchanged glances. She didn't dare look at them. She _couldn't._ They didn't have to ask to know _who_ she was talking about.

Anakin Skywalker. Her husband.

The Jedi well knew he had once been a slave himself, growing up as a child on Tatooine. "He **hated** slavery. He wanted it _abolished, eradicated _fromthegalaxy_._..If the Clone Wars hadn't been going on, he would have been a _strong_ and determined advocate for ending the practice of slavery." She turned back to look at them, meeting their eyes with brown orbs filled with a resigned sadness. "If there was _any_ shred of Anakin left in what is now Darth Vader, he wouldn't have allowed slavery to continue. Anakin Skywalker," her throat tightened, her heart _shattering_ all over again as she spoke the words, "Is truly _**dead**_."

Utter silence permeated the room, as her words sank in, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, her heart heavier than ever before. "I didn't realize you still doubted that, Padme," Obi-Wan said carefully. He had been the first to tell her that Anakin Skywalker, _her Ani,_ was dead, that the man known to the galaxy as Darth Vader was _truly_ a different person…no, not a person, but a _monster_.

"Mostly, I didn't," she admitted quietly. It was a painful admission. It had taken her a long time to agree with Obi-Wan. For the first few months after Mustafar, she had eagerly watched the Holonews, looking for _any_ sign that her husband was still alive in there, and needed saving. Had she seen even a _glimmer _of him, the foolish Senator Amidala would have gone running headlong in to save him. To bring him _home._

But, it had been a fool's hope, a foolish pipe dream. Everything that passed through the Holonet was worse - _far worse -_ than the last, until finally Padme didn't even read the story and see her husband in it at all. Instead, he became just some villain in a mask who was nothing more than the cursed Emperor's enforcer. No, Vader _wasn't _herbelovedhusband. She knew that now.

"But," she continued, "whatever shred of hope I still had was snuffed completely out on this mission." The words were full of bitterness; she didn't quite sound like herself, and she knew it.

"So sure of Skywalker's fate, are you?" Yoda asked, drawing surprise not only from Padme, but Obi-Wan as well.

"I've told you the _exact_ same thing, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan reminded him. "Anakin Skywalker is **never** coming back."

"The actions of a creature called Darth Vader, these may be. But gone, Anakin Skywalker is _not_." Yoda insisted, with a nod of his head. "Only Sith deal in absolutes. Know this, you do, Obi-Wan. Hurt and betrayal cloud your judgment, I fear. As long as Vader lives, hope for Skywalker, there **is**." Yoda's words fell into a shocked silence.

"Master," Obi-Wan immediately said, "With all due respect, you weren't _there_ that night on Mustafar. You didn't _see_ him attack his own heavily pregnant wife," Padme flinched at the memory, but Obi-Wan continued on, "You didn't hear him proclaim the Jedi to be evil! He fully believed in what he was doing! The man that I faced that night was **not** my former padawan, my brother!"

"There, I was not. Correct on this, you are." Yoda agreed, "Perhaps more to the reason for his turn, there is."

"It doesn't matter!" Obi-Wan was struggling to keep his voice under control. He didn't want to wake the twins either. He knew Padme would be royally pissed off if he woke the children. "Even if there _were_ other reasons behind it, ones we are unaware of, it still doesn't excuse any of his actions," He practically hissed, "And, Padme is right—Anakin lashed out at anyone who even mentioned the words slave or slavery around him as a padawan. I constantly had to intervene before he could start a fight in the Temple with the other padawans over it! If he was at all in there in that suit he now wears, he wouldn't allow the emperor to continue the practice of slavery!"

"As his wife, I know…_knew_ Anakin better than _anyone_," Padme quietly pointed out, causing them to look at her again. "Obi-Wan is right. Anakin would have _killed_ those men himself before I _ever_ had the chance to for keeping those people as slaves."

_Besides_, she thought, _if_ _Yoda_ _hadn't_ _even_ _figured_ _out_ _our relationship_ _as_ _husband_ _and_ _wife_ _before Mustafar_, _how_ _could_ _he_ _claim_ _to know that_ _there_ _might_ _still_ _be_ _a_ _shred_ _of my_ _husband_ _left_ _in_ _that_ _monster?_ If Yoda thought _that_, then he **never** truly knew Anakin Skywalker at all.

Yoda regarded her for a moment, his eyes unreadable. "Alright." He finished his hot chocolate. "Going to bed, I am. Tomorrow, your training we begin." Padme had to keep from wincing.

Oh, yeah. _That_.

Now that she was home for a few weeks, it was the perfect opportunity Yoda had to train her further in her lightsaber skills. Training with the Jedi Grandmaster…Surely, _that_ wasn't the most intimidating thing **ever**.

Not.

"Yes, Master Yoda." She replied coolly instead, bowing her head in respect to the ancient Jedi. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He replied back, inclining his head toward her before leaving to go to his room. Padme watched him depart, and the moment he was gone out of sight, Obi-Wan spoke up.

"He's wrong you know."

She turned back to Obi-Wan to see a grim and bitter expression in his blue eyes. "I don't say that often about his judgement, but in this case, he's wrong. _Dead wrong._"

Saying nothing, she turned back to look out the kitchen window. Her mind replayed Obi-Wan's words, her heart stirring just a bit…but, she quickly shut it down. No. Anakin was _dead_. She had to accept that to continue forward with her mission. "Yes, I know." She replied softly. "I know."

* * *

Darth Vader waited until the hologram machine was fully disconnected to the Emperor's frequency before he rose from his painful kneeling position. The emperor's orders ran through his mind, over and over again: "_Direct_ _all_ _of_ _your_ _resources_ _into_ _finding_ _that_ _assassin_, _Lord_ _Vader_—_find_ _the_ _assassin_, _and_ _you'll_ _find_ _the_ _Jedi_ _that_ _has_ _been_ _helping_ _them_." Vader had told his Master of the faint trace of a Force signature he detected on the cliff overlooking the mining compound, but whether or not that actually _meant_ it was a Jedi was still to be seen.

Sidious had no distinction, however. As far as _he_ was concerned, the only Force-wielders left in the galaxy should be the two of them, or at least those firmly in service to the Dark Side. Vader scowled as he pulled out his personal comm. He was being reduced to an ordinary bounty hunter, or at least that's what it _felt_ like. He knew for a fact that Darth Sidious had _plenty_ of other viable methods to track down and find the assassin and their Force-sensitive accomplice. It just seemed overkill to be sending Vader, a Sith Lord, after what would ultimately be an insignificant, albeit _curious_, threat.

But, though Sidious had given the order calmly, Vader had seen a glint of feral rage in his master's eyes from beneath the hood. The threat behind the order was clear: _Do not fail me. _If he failed, it would be _he_ that paid the price.

It was a price he had no wish to pay.

The comm connected, and General Piett appeared in the glowing image display. "Lord Vader," he greeted, his voice, as always, strictly professional. "What are your orders, My Lord?"

Always to the point. Another reason why Vader trusted the man with his precious flagship. "We are changing course, General." Vader announced.

He saw a flicker of surprise in the General's eyes, but that was the only sign of it. "Where are we headed, My Lord?"

Vader closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He didn't _want_ to do this, but it was what was needed to be done. "Tatooine," he said, the word tasting sour in his mouth. "We're going to Tatooine."

Piett bowed slightly. "Yes, My Lord."

"And, one more thing." Vader said before Piett disconnected. "Have Jabba the Hutt contacted. Tell him to send the bounty hunter Boba Fett to await my shuttle's arrival in Mos Eisley." He remembered the boy from his Clone War days. He had caused quite a bit of trouble for them then, and Vader now made it a habit to keep tabs on the bounty hunter should he decide to start taking jobs from the Rebellion.

Now, Piett hesitated. "And…if he refuses, My Lord?"

Oh yes, Vader _knew_ Jabba would refuse initially. He didn't like to be ordered around. Still, he had pledged at least the appearance of loyalty to the Empire. "Then he will have _me_ to deal with. _Personally_." His voice lowered, the threat clear in his voice.

Piett nodded once sharply. "It will be done, My Lord." Vader didn't bother to reply, and disconnected.

For a moment, he stood in the center of his room, looking out the view port at the stars beyond. There was once a time when the stars brought him a sense of freedom, of belonging. Now he stared out at them and felt a heavy sort of weariness that tugged at his very soul…or what was left of his soul. He hadn't slept in days, and he had avoided meditation whenever possible since the meditation dream.

But now, it was unavoidable. Now that he had time to himself, the exhaustion hit him like he had been attacked by a star destroyer. As he began to strip himself of the suit, his movements were sluggish, as if he were fighting every movement. He didn't bother to put the suit away as he normally did, and left it discarded unceremoniously on the floor of his chambers where he dropped it.

Still, he stared warily at the ridiculously gigantic bed that was his like it held some sort of trap within its covers. He knew that the moment he closed his eyes, he would be engulfed in _agonizing_ dreams. Dreams of those he killed. Dreams of those he would kill. Dreams of Sidious strengthening his hold on him, of being the man's slave…of his wife's death…

He shook his head. Maybe he could make it another night. He would lie down, but he _wouldn't_ fall asleep. Instead, he would view the footage he had obtained from the mines. He had decoded it, and he would have viewed it already had it not been for Sidious' call to express his..._concerns_ about squelching this latest threat to _his_ empire.

Blast the man and his infernal paranoia!

He slipped on his black sleep shorts, and picking up his datapad, he climbed into bed and reluctantly settled beneath the covers, lying there stiffly. As a Sith Lord, he was usually so busy that trying to relax felt…_wrong_, somehow. Deciding that he wouldn't get any more comfortable than that, he brought the screen up so that he could see it and pulled up the video feed.

At first, there was plenty of scrolling through useless feed. Most of it was full of the slaves, and Vader quietly seethed in anger. If the assassin hadn't killed those slavers, Vader most certainly _would_ have, regardless of what his Master wanted. It was for _that_ exact reason that Sidious intentionally never spoke of the slave trade around Vader, and kept as many of the slave outposts as secret as he could.

Sidious was _well_ aware of Vader's feelings regarding the slave trade, but he himself had _no_ compunction whatsoever about using the backs of slaves to build and maintain his empire. As long as it suited _his_ purposes, he would sanction it. Sometimes, after Sidious had 'punished' him for whatever it was Sidious thought he'd done wrong, Vader considered hunting the outposts down to destroy them, just to _spite_ his Master. The memory of the Force-lightning thrown his way was enough to stop him from doing so.

_There_.

He stopped speeding through the footage, watching as the officers closed the metal doors, locking them, as if that would save them. Not long after, the unmistakable blue blade of a lightsaber plunged through the metal, cutting through it like paper. The four officers raised their weapons, and it looked like they were saying something to each other, but there was no audio.

The blade cut out the locking mechanism quickly, and the doors were kicked in. Blaster fire erupted, blocking his view of the intruder for just a moment, but he watched as the blue blade efficiently returned the fire back to their owners, killing two of the men.

And then he saw the assassin.

The assassin was clad in a black, armored and yet form-hugging uniform, with knee high boots and a hood over their head. A mask covered everything from below the eyes, making facial recognition impossible. But, as he watched the assassin approach the two frantic officers, he noticed a few things about them: First, they weren't very tall. His guess about the height of the assassin had been correct.

Second, and perhaps _most_ importantly, the assassin was a _woman_.

_Intriguing._

She was slender, and her movements were powerful, lithe and yet, _graceful_. She moved with speed and agility that Vader found somewhat surprising. As one of the officers tried to call for backup, she ruthlessly sliced clean through him. The last officer, the Colonel who had been in charge of the mine, pointed his blaster at her, but he must have realized it was futile for he didn't fire.

As Vader watched, fascinated despite himself, there seemed to be a brief verbal exchange between the Colonel and the assassin, and Vader found himself _wishing_ that there was audio so that he could hear her voice.

A split second later, she launched forward, running the lightsaber through the man's gut before ripping up to his chest. She yanked it back out with tremendous force, watching as the man slumped to the floor in front of her. She paused, looking at the body as if she were re-thinking the decision, before she stepped over it and…

The feed cut off. That was it.

He rewound it and watched it happen again, watching her movements, trying to understand the enemy that he was to hunt. She was certainly a well trained assassin, but…_no_. He didn't _think_ she had the Force. Maybe it was the way she moved. Maybe it was the way she handled the lightsaber. Whatever it was, _something_ told him that she wasn't a Force-wielder.

And…there was something _else_.

Something…_missing_. Something important, something the video feed would be incapable of telling him. As he watched her again, he couldn't help but feel…feel…

The datapad slid from his hand onto the bed next to him as he drifted into sleep, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

The dream started almost immediately.

He recognized the beautiful serenity that was Varykino. He stood there on the balcony, looking up at the stars that twinkled peacefully above him, his hands clasped behind his back. He frowned, pulling his gaze away from the stars to look out at the darkened lake in puzzlement. His dreams were always full of misery, of anger, of hate…and Varykino was none of those things.

The glass doors separating the balcony from the inside of the manor opened behind him. "The kids are in bed." The voice….that hauntingly familiar, _beautiful_ voice…

His entire body stiffened. He didn't dare turn around. If he did, he was sure he'd see her as a decomposing corpse, or she'd be glaring at him with hatred…

Her hands were suddenly on his back, running up it soothingly, making him involuntarily groan. "Now, it's just us, Ani," Her voice was alluring, melodic, and he found himself leaning into her touch even though he _knew_ that the moment he turned around, this glorious dream would become a nightmare.

He felt her gentle hands pull his shirt from being neatly tucked into his waistband, starting to lift it. He closed his eyes, his heart wrenching in in his chest, as he slowly turned around to face the nightmare…

But, to this utter _shock,_ when he opened his eyes, it was just _her_. Just his Angel. She wore that white nightgown she had worn during their first stay there, with the royal blue, silky robe over it, her chestnut curls falling freely down her shoulders and framing her perfect, angelic face as she looked up into his eyes…and stopped.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her voice a mere whisper.

He didn't answer for a moment, just stared at her in apprehension and wonder. When was the last time he'd seen her this way, in reality or in his dreams? Well before Mustafar, that much he knew. "This is a dream." He finally croaked, his voice catching in his throat.

Padme smiled. "Oh, Ani," she said, leaning into him. _Force_, her body against his… "You're such a romantic."

He was breathing hard now. No. This _wasn't_ real. If he let himself get drawn in, waking up would be the nightmare, not the dream. As she leaned up to kiss him, he roughly pulled away. "No," he said, his voice shaking. "I…I can't."

Padme stood where he'd left her, staring at him blankly for a moment, as if she hadn't quite registered that for the first time _ever_, he had pulled away from her. "Anakin?" She asked, a frown marring her lovely features. Force, he wished he could give into her, take away the frown…

But, he couldn't. This wasn't _real_. And he…he didn't deserve her, not even in his dreams. "What's wrong?" She asked again, taking a step towards him.

"Don't!" He begged, backing up into the railing. "This isn't real."

That seemed to upset her. "Anakin Skywalker," She snapped, though she was keeping her voice down for some reason, "Do you know how _hard_ I worked to get those hooligans into bed?"

Hooligans? _What_ hooligans? His mind was whirling. He couldn't think straight, and she looked _so enticing_, and she was coming closer to him again. "_Padme_…" he began, but she cut him off.

"It's not often that we get a break from them. You always complain that we don't get enough time to ourselves. Well here we are, on a gorgeous, romantic night, and you're telling me this isn't _real_?" She was chest to chest with him now, the contact spreading electrical shocks rampaging like wildfire through his body. He felt sweat dripping down his neck.

She must have seen the confusion and worry in his eyes, because her own expression softened. "Oh, _Ani_," she sighed, wrapping her arms around him and snuggling into his chest. He stiffened, but this time he didn't pull away. He didn't think he could. "I'm sorry. I just sometimes miss when it was just the two of us."

He didn't know what to say. None of this made _any_ sense. This wasn't the right dream he was supposed to be having. "It is…was the two of us." He finally croaked.

She pulled away slightly then, looking up into his eyes. "It _**is**_ the two of us right now," she agreed, leaning up. He couldn't move. There wasn't anywhere _to_ move. She had him backed against the stone railing. "In the end, it will _always_ be just the two of us, Ani…"

And, as she pressed her warm, soft lips to his…He woke up.

Bolting upright in bed, breathing hard, Vader stared around, wide-eyed at his empty, darkened bedchamber, shocked and confused by his dream, a feeling that he _needed_ answers overtaking him.

But, the answers to _what _questions, specifically, the Dark Lord just didn't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is Anakin's Dream, by John Williams!   
Leave some love!   
Love,  
Ladyvader23


	5. Yoda's Training

Sweat ran down her neck and back, adhering her tunic to her skin. She was not unfamiliar with the sensation—she had gotten used to the feeling when she first began to train as an assassin, but it certainly had been a long time since she had pushed herself hard enough to get this way.

Yoda was a _tough_ teacher. He delivered his instruction calmly, of course, but for whatever reason, it always seemed harder to complete than any other instruction she'd ever been given before. _Now, I see why Ani always complained about Yoda's classes_ _at the Temple_, she thought with wry amusement. The only thing familiar about the situation was Obi-Wan, who was, as always, her sparring partner.

It _did_ unnerve her, however, that Yoda had requested that her children watch today. Outside in the sunshine and fresh air, they were off to the side, sitting on a picnic blanket under some shade trees with her mother, who frequently had to pull them back down to keep them from 'joining in' with mama and Uncle Ben. Padme knew Yoda's motivation behind having them there—one day, Yoda hoped to have the Skywalker siblings trained to be Jedi, and as they weren't living _in_ the Jedi Temple on Coruscant where they could be fully immersed in the ways of the Force, Yoda would improvise _here_ on Gandle Ott instead by showing them a glimpse of what their training would someday be like.

It made Padme _very_ uncomfortable to even _think_ of her children undergoing Jedi training. She wanted them to be safe. To live a full life free of the danger Jedi found ever present. To train as a Jedi would mean that someday they would be facing the perils of the galaxy, and she couldn't lose them. She had already lost so much; the idea of losing them too nearly killed her.

"Look not with your eyes," Yoda calmly said, "Before he makes them, sense his movements. Let your instincts guide you." Instincts? _What_ instincts? Padme frowned, about to open her mouth…

_Whack!_

Obi-Wan's wooden rod suddenly slapped the side of her leg. She hissed out a curse at the sharp stinging sensation, careful not to let the twins overhear, and stopped momentarily. "Rely on sight, you do. Your downfall, it will be." Yoda said patiently as Padme leaned over and rubbed the tender spot. She was sure Obi-Wan had left a bruise with that one.

"I'm _not_ a Jedi, Master Yoda. I don't have _any_ use of the Force. How can you expect me to rely on instinct in a battle without the Force?" She pointed out, turning to him with a skeptical look.

"Wrong, you are." Yoda looked her straight in the eye, his voice firmer this time. It was in moments like this that she saw Yoda for what he was: _The _Jedi Grandmaster. _Centuries_ of wisdom seemed to echo through his eyes as he spoke. "A Force-sensitive you may not be, but the Force surrounds _all_ life. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Aid you, it will. Guide you, it can, but _only_ if you trust and call upon it."

Padme couldn't help but frown doubtfully. Anakin had once told her that sometimes he could have _sworn_ that she was receiving guidance from the Force because she seemed to know exactly what to say at the exact right time to say it. Since she knew for certain that she wasn't Force-sensitive, she had chalked it up to a talent for delivering inspiring speeches.

But lightsaber battles were _not_ the same thing as inspiring speeches.

She didn't see _how_ she could have called upon the Force without a conscious connection to it.

Yoda sensed her disbelief. "Believe me, you do not," he said, reaching into his robe, "Test it out, you will." He pulled out a long strip of black cloth, floating it over to her. His meaning was clear.

"You want me to go up against Obi-Wan with a _blindfold_ on?" She asked incredulously, but she grasped the floating cloth from in front of her nonetheless.

"_Trust_ in yourself," Yoda urged, "Trust the _Force_."

Padme glanced at Obi-Wan, looking for backup. Obi-Wan shrugged and arched his eyebrows. "If Yoda says it's possible, then it's possible, albeit unconventional."

"Unconventional, am I?" Yoda mused, a smile twisting his lips. "Yes, I suppose so." Clearly, she wasn't going to win _this_ argument. If Anakin were here, Padme just _knew_ he would be laughing at her current..._predicament. _With a sigh and a shake of her head, Padme tied the blindfold over her eyes, her vision going completely black.

As she moved back into a defensive position, she felt as if all of the training she had been given over the last two years amounted to nothing in this situation. Sure, she had worked on honing her other senses as well as sight, but sight was still a _major_ part of a normal assassin's routine. Even though she wasn't a Jedi, she _did_ use a Jedi's weapon. The Chosen One's weapon at that. She supposed that made her anything _but_ a normal assassin. "Proceed." Yoda instructed, and…

_Smack!_

This time Obi-Wan hit her upper arm.

"Hey!" She hissed, taking a wobbly step back.

"Stretch out with your feelings. Concentrate not on sight, but _instincts_." Yoda patiently reminded her. A memory flashed in her mind of Anakin mimicking Yoda's oft-repeated advice, _"Do or do not. There is no try."_

Padme sighed in exasperation, but she squeezed her eyes tighter, trying to imagine her other senses stretching out towards Obi-Wan…

_Whap!_

Damn! Missed. She raised her stick too late, and Obi-Wan hit her other leg.

_Whump!_

She attacked in the wrong direction. Took a hit square across her back.

_Zing!_

It hit her elbow.

_Thud!_

Right ankle next.

Obi-Wan pummeled her from every angle. She lost track of how many times she was hit, but it felt like her _entire_ body would be covered in bruises in the morning. Too bad they didn't have a bacta tank handy. More and more, she tried to tap into her instincts, but all she became was more and more frustrated than she'd felt in a long time, until she was wildly lashing out with her sparring stick swinging in circles. Finally, her stick connected with Obi-Wan's with a satisfying _CRACK_. "Ha!" Padme couldn't help but gasp out in triumph, "I finally…"

And then suddenly, she felt her legs being swept out from under her, and she landed on her back so hard the breath was knocked out of her lungs.

"Gloating is the path to failure." Yoda calmly said, as she lay there gasping for breath. _Oh yeah. Ani would definitely be laughing right now, _she thought with a wry grimace. She reached up slowly, taking her blindfold off to peer up into the deep blue sky above them. "Overconfident, you should not be."

She gritted her teeth as she forced herself to sit up to look at Yoda and Obi-Wan standing over her. She was tempted to deny that she had been overconfident since she was getting her butt kicked, but Yoda had a point. "I'm sorry, Master." She said on a sigh instead, as Obi-Wan reached a hand out to pull her up. She took it gratefully, her sore muscles protesting with the movement. Once she was on her feet again, she brushed the dirt and grass off of her simple tunic and trousers. "I don't think I could _ever_ tap into the Force."

"Patience, Senator." She winced at the old title. "With much practice and faith, complete this task, you can."

She still didn't see how. She had never associated herself with the Force, other than being married to the Chosen One and giving birth to his children. But, as she opened her mouth to explain that further, a little voice interrupted. "I twy!"

The group turned to find Luke suddenly there, Jobal hurrying over with Leia on her heels. "I'm sorry," Jobal said, "I turned around for one second…"

"I twy." Luke insisted excitedly, reaching for Padme's sparring stick. Again, the idea of Luke or Leia taking up a sparring rod to begin learning how to use a lightsaber entered Padme's mind, and she recoiled, immediately pulling the rod out of Luke's reach. He frowned, tears starting to come to his eyes. "Shaw, Mama!"

"No, Luke," Padme started, her mouth going dry, but Yoda stepped forward.

"Not today, Luke." Yoda said, making Luke look at him. Padme wondered if he was communicating the message with the Force to help Luke understand, because she saw some of the tension leave her son's little body. Leia joined her brother's side, looking curiously at Yoda. "Patience, young one. Your time will come." He glanced at Padme when he said this, and she scowled but didn't put up an argument. If it made Luke temporarily happy, she wouldn't press the issue. For now. Yoda looked back at her twins. "Both of your times will come."

"I think," Obi-Wan slowly said, sensing Padme's rising distress, "That we should wrap things up for today."

Yoda nodded. If he noticed Padme's soured mood, he didn't show it. "Continue another day, we will. Come, children. Look for Bob the frog, we shall."

"Bob!" Luke chortled, excited at the prospect of finding the elusive frog, and toddled after Yoda, Leia trailing behind him.

"Are you alright?" Jobal asked Padme once the children were out of earshot. Padme met her mother's eyes—her poor mother had lost _so_ much herself in the last two years. Padme knew that Jobal worried about her daughter's recent life choices, but as always, her mother had remained supportive.

Still, Padme was careful to _never_ tell her the details of what she did for the Rebellion, and she wondered if Jobal would be quite so supportive if she knew just _how_ dangerous her life had become. "I'm fine, Mom." She forced a smile for her mother, a smile she knew immediately her mother didn't buy. "Go take a rest. Yoda can handle the twins for now."

Her mother hesitated, but Padme could see the exhaustion in her mother's face. "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly.

"I'm sure. I've got Obi-Wan here with me." She motioned to Obi-Wan absently.

Relenting, her mother nodded and retreated back towards the house. Padme watched her go, wishing she could choose a life that her mother wouldn't worry so much over. Had things gone to plan and the Empire hadn't taken over, perhaps she and Anakin and their family would have settled on Naboo, living a quiet life.

Varykino. They would have probably settled there at the Lake House retreat. Anakin had always loved it there. Padme continued to stare after her mother, lost in thoughts of what had been, what would now _never_ be.

"You may have to confront him someday, you know." Obi-Wan's voice interrupted her train of thought before she could get too wrapped up in it. She blinked, coming fully back to reality and turned back to him. He was watching her gravely. She didn't have to ask to know who he was talking about.

Darth Vader.

"We're married. We've fought before, you know, and it's not like I haven't seen him fight before. Remember Geonosis?" She reminded him sourly with a wry twist of her lips.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, that's not the same thing. He was always exceptionally gifted with his lightsaber skills. Even from a young age, he excelled at it. That, combined with his unparalleled connection to the Force, and the _Dark_ _Side_ of the Force at that…" Obi-Wan shivered. "If what Yoda says is possible is actually possible, I _strongly_ recommend that you master whatever Force connection you can achieve. If you face him…" He looked her straight in the eye, the truth of his words searing into her. "You're going to _need_ every available resource to defeat him. Trust me. _I know._"

She heard the unspoken message in his voice: Even _then_, all of her resources might not be enough. She had never asked for the details of what happened on Mustafar after she collapsed, and she doubted she ever would ask for them, but she did know that it had been a tense, hostile battle, a hard fought one which had endangered Obi-Wan's life greatly. Even after all the training she'd done with Obi-Wan, she had yet to defeat him. In a duel, she knew _Anakin_ would've spared her. _Vader, _however_, _would destroy her.

If she couldn't defeat Obi-Wan, could she ever have a hope of defeating _Darth_ _Vader_ if the time came? She wasn't sure she really wanted to explore that possibility. The implication was chilling. Instead, she turned away, back towards the house, a distant look in her eyes.

"I understand." She said hollowly.

* * *

**Across the Galaxy...**

He _hated_ Tatooine. He had almost been tempted to send one of his officers to find Boba and bring the boy up to meet him on the _Executor_, but he needed Boba to be willing to listen to him. Dragging him off planet against his will likely would only irritate him, and Vader _wasn_'_t_ in the mood to deal with an irritated bounty hunter.

Vader strode through the sandy streets of Mos Eisley with purpose, his black cloak billowing out behind him in the hot breeze, as he approached the Cantina confidently. Registering the looks he received as he walked, he chose to ignore those around him who cast him those fearful and curious stares. He reached out through the Force to touch the minds of those inside of the building as he approached. As expected from the Mos Eisley Cantina, it was full of beings who had nothing good up their sleeves. Unbidden, the phrase "_A_ _wretched_ _hive_ _of_ _scum_ _and_ _villainy_" entered into his mind, and he scowled. It's exactly the kind of thing his old master would have called this place.

But, as he entered the Cantina, the deceptively upbeat music stopped, conversation dying as everyone stopped what they were doing to simply stare at the Dark Lord of the Sith. Grimly, Vader smiled behind his mask—now _he_ was the worst of the villains in that room. He paused to consider that for a moment and wasn't sure if that made him uncomfortable, or if that made him thrilled. Brushing the thoughts aside, he panned the room in an arc, staring back at all of them, and though they couldn't see the expression on his face, the mask was terrifying enough. They soon reluctantly went back to their business, many, if not all of them, keeping a close watch on him out of the corner of their eye.

As if any of them could stop him should he decide to destroy them all. The thought was actually laughable.

"Lord Vader." A voice, familiar because it was the voice of all clones, said from a darkened alcove to his right. Vader approached the table, seeing the lone figure dressed in dark green Mandalorian armor staring back at him. Vader did not bother to sit. He found it diminished the perception of his power to lower himself to the level of those who were obviously beneath him. So, instead he continued to stand and crossed his massive arms over his chest. "Fett." His baritone voice rumbled. "Thank you for joining me."

"Not that I had a choice." If he was bitter about it, he didn't show it.

Vader inclined his head slightly. "You're correct." He, of course, hadn't meant the pleasantry literally. Actually, in truth, he was _slightly_ disappointed that Fett hadn't given him a reason to storm Jabba's palace. "I have an assignment for you."

Wearing the Mandalorian helmet, Vader couldn't see the boy's expression, but he felt his faint amusement through the Force, sparking Vader's annoyance. "And you want to discuss this assignment _here_?" The incredulity in his response was both insulting and mocking. Vader stifled the urge to strangle the boy.

Vader rolled his eyes instead. Of course not. He wasn't stupid. He'd just needed a place to meet the boy, away from Jabba and his cronies. "Follow me." He said instead, turning around abruptly to walk back out of the Cantina, not bothering to wait to see if his order was followed. His orders were always obeyed. He quickened his stride, but he sensed Boba scramble as casually as he could after him.

The twin suns of Tatooine were just setting in the horizon. The space port was still busy, but not obnoxiously so. Even as evening approached and the planet began to cool, it was still sweltering hot. Ridiculously so. Sweat was dripping down between Vader's shoulder blades. It was moments like _this_ that he dearly wished his suit was a different color or had a stronger internal cooling mechanism.

"This assignment is from the Emperor himself, Fett." He said once he was sure they were away from the prying ears of Mos Eisley's citizens. Turning off the main street, Vader headed back towards the space port, back to where his personal shuttle waited for him.

"The Emperor, huh?" Boba Fett mused. "What's the job?"

Again, he reached out with the Force and searched those around him, sensing for minds alerted to their presence. Naturally, that was basically everyone they passed, but none of them were in hearing range. Still, as a precaution, Vader sent out impulses from the Force to confound those they passed and prevent them from _trying_ to overhear. Glancing behind him at Fett as they walked, Vader still lowered his voice anyway. "Our quarry is a Jedi," he said, "_And_ an assassin."

He felt Fett's surprise at hearing that he was to help capture a _Jedi_. "I thought the Jedi were dead."

"Not all of them." Vader scowled, "And, more Force-sensitive children are born every day across the galaxy. Besides, it is not the Jedi that I have the _most_ interest in." Surprisingly. The Jedi he felt confident he could track down himself. But, the Jedi wasn't Vader's focus. No. This mysterious _woman_ was.

"The assassin?" Fett asked, and now the surprise was really in his voice. "What's so special about an assassin anyway? Assassins are a credit a dozen in this sector."

Actually, he himself hadn't figured out the answer to that, but he fully intended to. "This assassin seems to be hunting down specific high ranking Imperials for their targets." He said instead, ignoring the question. "I have a trap in mind, but I need someone else to help implement it, someone _experienced_ in capturing hard to find prey." And Boba Fett, despite still being in his teens, had an impressive track record.

Boba was silent for a moment. "And what about Jabba? I'm still under his employ, remember? I can't just go running off…"

"This is an order from the _emperor." _Vader emphasized. "If Jabba has an issue with this, he can take it up with _me_. You will be paid handsomely for your services."

That's all _any_ bounty hunter needed to hear. "What's your plan?" Satisfied, Vader grinned.

Over the last few weeks, he had found himself watching the mining footage over and over again, almost drawn to it against his will. He had committed every discernable detail of the woman to memory. Despite himself, he was fascinated by her. In a personal fashion he had never expected, this woman assassin seemed to draw him. He was..._intrigued. _He had vowed to find her, and he _would_ find her, and he _would_ capture her. And when he did, he fully intended to find out just what made her _tick_. At the thought, something deep inside of him stirred. He frowned, concentrating on it. Interesting. A…_disturbance_, in the Force, whispered to him. Almost as if this assassin meant a great deal more to the Force...to him_..._than just as a mere curiosity.

But what? _How?_

Shaking the thought away to consider for another time, he smiled smugly and told Boba Fett of his plan.

"This is what we're going to do..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a bit of a set-up chapter, but those are needed every once in a while. Next chapter will be pretty exciting, so stay tuned!
> 
> The songs for this chapter are Training Po by Han Zimmer and Enter Lord Vader by John Williams


	6. The Asteroid Chase

They landed in the busy hangar bay, stabilizers firing to steady them as they set their shuttle down with a gentle _whump. _Running quickly through the landing and shutdown cycle, they lowered the ramp, as the engines were whining to a stop. Two cloaked figures disembarked into the organized melee of the secluded base, hangar bay personnel and droids scurrying to and fro amongst the various speeders, shuttles, and fighters, seeing to various maintenance tasks. Ignoring the buzz of activity around them, they made their way unerringly through the maze of tunnels. They had made this walk before, and no one questioned their presence. Arriving at their destination after several long tense minutes, the taller of the two reached out and keyed in the security code, turning to the other cloaked figure and wryly remarked, "Well, let's see what all the fuss is about, shall we?" As the door activated and silently whisked open, a silent nod was the only reply.

Padme and Obi-Wan entered the secluded control room of the hidden base, buried mostly deep underground. Passing quietly by various map displays, droids, and whirring machines, they headed for the middle of the room, ignoring the subdued hum of activity at all the various comm and workstations around them, as they traversed through the beating heart of the Rebellion. Dressed in her all-black assassin's gear, mask affixed to her face, Padme paid most of it no mind, her dark brown eyes firmly fixed on the central control station, the nucleus of the room, where Bail Organa and Mon Mothma stood, conversing quietly as they observed the holoprojection in the center of the transmission display.

Obi-Wan wore a dark brown hooded cloak, which hid his face from view: Most of the higher-ups in the Rebellion knew who Obi-Wan was, but many- if not _most-_ of the general soldiers and ancillary personnel did not. It wouldn't do to have one of them be captured and then telling the Empire all about the Rebellion's most helpful Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. There _were_ other Jedi helping the Rebellion, of course, but most of these, like Anakin's former padawan, Ashoka Tano, were scattered in hidden locations across the edge of the galaxy in the Outer Rim territories. They mostly helped with reconnaissance and intelligence and rarely went on battle missions for their own safety, as they were still being actively hunted by Vader and the Empire. Only Bail and Mon Mothma knew of each of their exact locations.

They approached the table, drawing the immediate attention of the two key Rebellion leaders. "Senator Organa," Padme greeted solemnly, "Senator Mon Mothma." These were the _only_ two people in the Rebellion who knew who she really was, and they would take her secret to the grave, she knew, but she also wished her friends didn't _have_ to hide her secret either. It put them in that much greater danger; although, perhaps, they were _already_ putting themselves- _willingly-_ in so much danger just by heading the Rebellion in secret while they appeared to be 'normal senators' in the Galactic Senate, so that it didn't really matter.

Mon Mothma smiled serenely at Padme and tilted her head at them in greeting. "Nightblade, Master Jedi, thank you for answering our summons and coming so quickly."

"Of course, Senator," Obi-Wan replied politely, bowing, his hands folded carefully in the arms of his cloak. "You have an urgent mission for us, I take it?"

"Yes," Bail replied, nodding as he pressed a few buttons on the control panel to bring up another map. "This is the planet Kauron," he pointed to a greenish-brown sphere toward the edge of the screen, "It's an Outer Rim planet in the Meram sector near the Kauron asteroid field and, other than being the hideout for the Cavrilhu pirates, of seemingly little importance to the Empire being so far from the Core. However, most disturbingly, we have been getting reports of increased Imperial activity in the vicinity...and we want to know _why_." Bail looked at them, grave concern etched on his face.

"So, it's a spy mission, then?" Obi-Wan asked, arching his eyebrows questioningly. Padme could hear the frown in his voice without needing to look at him. "Don't we," he indicated himself and Padme with a flicking gesture of his hand, "normally carry out assassinations?"

"Yes," Mon Mothma agreed, "However, there _are_ rumors of high level Imperials suddenly going to that system. If that is, indeed, the case, we need to know _why_ and of what import this planet could be to the Empire. Based on your previous successes, we trust you two to handle the situation _discretely_. And, if there _are_ high-ranking Imperials, we trust that they will _mysteriously_ be..._dealt with _accordingly_."_

Padme glanced over at Obi-Wan, wondering just what he was thinking. She herself felt…_wary_ of this mission. _Something_ seemed rather..._odd_ about it, disturbingly so, but she couldn't put her finger on just what it could be. It wasn't just that it was different from the others. _No_, it was something _else..._Though, honestly, she was perfectly okay with occasionally taking on missions that didn't end in death. _This_ one however…

"And, your sources," Obi-Wan stroked his beard thoughtfully, contemplating the holo display for a moment, then hesitantly said, "You're _sure_ they're reliable?" His blue-green gaze, reflecting concern, darted between the Rebellion leaders.

Bail and Mon Mothma exchanged a look of surprise. "Of course, Master Jedi," Bail replied, "We're sure that _they're_ sure of Imperial activity in the sector. We just don't know _why_. That is what we need _you_ to do. Verify the Empire's presence and find out _why_ they are on Kauron."

Obi-Wan still deemed dubious. "Well, it's certainly _possible_ that they're using an unimportant world to hide their activities in the area, using Kauron to deflect curiosity away from their _tru_e objectives in the sector, _but_ this could also be a trap."

Bail and Mon Mothma glanced at each other. "It could be, yes," Bail conceded, "But, to be fair, _all_ of our missions could lead into a trap. You know this already."

He had a point. _Anytime_ they sent out Rebellion troops on a mission - no matter the _nature_ of the endeavor- they ran the risk of walking into an Imperial trap. In fact, some of the missions were quite obviously traps and were undertaken for the sole purpose of springing said trap, usually allowing them the luxury of additional time to complete _other_ missions - or sometimes merely to frustrate and confound the Empire...just for the hell of it.

Still, _this_ one felt…_different_ somehow. If it wasn't a trap, though, and there really were Imperials up to no good, Padme knew she couldn't risk the consequences of that. "We'll do it." She spoke up firmly, earning her a sharp glance from Obi-Wan. "We'll depart immediately and contact you the moment we know what's going on. If it does happen to be a trap," She shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, it's not like we haven't escaped traps before. We'll just do it again, if it is." Obi-Wan turned and looked at Padme like he wanted to retort, but for some reason, seemed to think better of it. Exhaling sharply through a grimace, he turned his attention slowly back to the two senators, obviously resigned to acquiescing on the matter.

There was a moment's silence as Bail and Mon Mothma looked at Obi-Wan for his answer. Finally, the Jedi Master sighed. "_Fine_," Obi-Wan said, "I suppose she's right. We can't simply allow the Imperials to have any more advantages than they already _do_."

Padme relaxed a little as Bail nodded. "Alright. I'll send the encrypted coordinates to your ship. Use the Level V decryption sequence to retrieve. Report back your findings immediately. Dismissed." It was a _little_ strange that her own friends had to dismiss them, but this _was_ a military operation. They had to follow the rules and proper protocols...same as everyone else.

But, as they turned to leave, Bail reached forward and gently stopped her with a hand on her forearm. "Are you doing okay?" His voice was soft, lowered to avoid being overheard, his expression full of concern.

Behind the mask, she smiled softly, even though Bail couldn't see it. He was a good friend, a good man, and a good leader. Under his guidance, the Rebellion _would_ prosper. "I'm fine," she promised him softly. "The children are doing fine as well. How are you holding up?"

Bail sighed and shook his head. "I'm alright...it's _you_ I'm worried about, Padme. I know…I know you accepted this mission, but…" he broke off. They'd already had this conversation before. She'd had _this _exact same conversation with almost _everyone_ she was close with (save for her mother, who didn't know of her duties for the Rebellion). So far, none of them could talk her into making different choices. She chose this path, and she would see it through to the end. "Ok. Just...Be safe out there. You hear? I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I sent you to your death. Or _worse_."

He didn't have to mention what that meant. Vader. There was always a chance he would kill her, yes, but there was _also_ a chance - should he _ever_ discover she was alive- where he'd take her and claim her for himself, a prisoner with a fancy name, "_Lady Vader,_ 'wife' of Lord Vader" to disguise what she'd become to him. She shivered at the thought...whether from fear or something more _primal_ she didn't want to consider. "I'll be careful," She promised. "Thanks."

He nodded, releasing her arm and stepping away, and she turned and left, feeling his and Mon's eyes on her as she went.

He could _never_ know she'd survived. She had to make sure of it.

* * *

Force, he _wished _he could have brought the _Executor_, but his flagship was too recognizable, even here in the Outer Rim territories. He highly doubted _any_ assassin, let alone the one he was looking for, would come snooping around out here if they knew he was nearby. That wasn't to say there _hadn't_ been attempted assassinations on his life since he'd become Darth Vader. There certainly _had_, but he'd always had a premonition from the Force and foreseen and destroyed them before they could have a chance to harm him. As a result, it had been a while since anyone had attempted it.

It was a bit boring, actually. He enjoyed a good challenge, and, directing his thoughts back to his present dilemma,_ this _particular assassin was certainly _that._ Vader smirked. In all honesty, he really shouldn't be _enjoying_ this chase as much as he was. But, he couldn't help it. The thrill of the hunt was intoxicating, and he was looking forward to this woman's capture.

The importance of Kauron to the Empire hadn't exactly been over exaggerated. They had started to use the planet for its resources, namely its vast supply of several key mineral deposits. The only thing Vader had done was allow the informants, that had been previously been unable to get communications through to distant worlds to suddenly 'break' the Imperial code. Right before he allowed that to happen, he'd doubled Imperial troops to the point where it _looked _like something important was happening on the planet, when in actual fact, if they lost Kauron, it wouldn't actually bother the Emperor in the slightest.

Still, once the signal had been sent out, (untraceable, unfortunately) he had to rely strongly on the Force to time it _just_ right. He remained on the planet, meditating in his private quarters, waiting for the day when he got the impression from the Force to signal for the trap to spring open. On the outside, it looked as if they _hadn't_ heightened planetary security, but in reality, _every_ ship, Imperial or not, entering the planet's atmosphere flickered across Vader's personal datapad. So far, none of them gave him the urge to take action.

But soon…he could _feel_ it in his bones. The air was thick with anticipation. Soon…They would come.

The moment he'd been eagerly anticipating arrived. He sat in his secluded quarters meditating, well aware of the Stormtroopers and officers giving the room a wide berth, when the Force seemed to _push_ at him to go to his personalized TIE fighter. He had expected the Force to do so, but he hadn't expected the _intensity_ of the sensation. It felt as if he needed to get into the fighter now or he would find himself dying. He stood abruptly, staggering for a moment as he found his footing, before straightening up and managing to dampen at least _some_ of the feelings surging through him. Every hair on his body stood on end, shivers rippled across his skin in waves, and he was suddenly _very_ glad for the suit, because otherwise, he was sure he would have had a peculiar expression on his face and a feral gleam in his eyes, as he left the room to rush to his TIE fighter in the hangar bay. On the way, he pulled out his comm, pressing the frequency he needed.

The helmet of Boba Fett appeared. If he was surprised, annoyed, or any other emotion, Vader couldn't tell, nor did he care, as long as Fett did his job well. "Sir?" Short, curt, and to the point. Good. It would save them time.

"It's time. Get in position." There was no room for question in his stern, commanding voice. Fett was wise enough not to. He simply nodded, and the communication was cut.

Using the Force, Vader vaulted into the cockpit of his TIE fighter, ignoring the gawking stares of the troopers around him. If this were a normal mission, these men would be rallying to join him in the assault. But, this was no ordinary mission. He was _not_ looking to have this assassin and her companion destroyed. He would disable her ship, capture them, and take them alive. Firing the engines, he engaged the throttle and launched, easing the ship easily through the upper atmosphere and into space, where a Star Destroyer orbited lazily over the planet's surface. It was not uncommon for a Star Destroyer to orbit an Imperial-controlled planet. Vader was _sure_ that whoever this assassin was, she probably had enough resources to have an Imperial code that would clear through the security aboard the star cruiser. Unfortunately, such things were becoming more and more common as the Rebellion gained ground.

He would change that soon enough.

But first, he needed to deal with the problem at hand...this elusive assassin and her cohorts.

He moved the TIE fighter close to the Star Destroyer. Not wanting to be disturbed at this critical juncture and risk having his identity revealed, he sent his clearance code to the ship before they could hail him. He needed to concentrate. He needed to seem like just another TIE fighter making its rounds around the ship. There were a few other TIE's out as well, practicing their formations. Even though his ship _was_ unique, from a distance, no one could tell the difference. Besides, it wasn't _often_ that he used it. It wasn't common knowledge that he even _owned_ it.

Another pull of the Force tugged at him. He turned the TIE fighter casually in the direction it was coming from, waiting…A ship appeared. A _Star Commuter 2000_. A typical civilian transport ship. There was nothing special about it on the outside, but Vader _knew_ this was the one he was looking for. Tapped into the Star Destroyer's frequency, Vader listened in intently, stretching out through the Force."We have you on our screen now," a bored voice droned over the intercom, "Please identify."

There was a brief pause. Vader's senses probed the ship—he could sense only one Force presence, the same presence that he had felt before at the mining compound, the one strong in the Force. He frowned: Whoever this Force wielder was, they were trying to do a good job of hiding their signature in the Force. Had Vader been anyone else, it might have worked; however, he was _not_ just anyone else. Now that they were here, and since it was obvious that this Force wielder was obviously cloaking the assassin's presence, their concentration was spread out. That made it easier…Wait.

_Why_ did it seem…familiar to him?

He had his answer simultaneously as an accented, cultured voice Vader _knew_ so well came over the speakers. "Shuttle Transport 47682, requesting access…"

Anger exploded within him in a white-hot detonation as long dormant memories, unbidden, were drawn to the surface of his consciousness by the achingly familiar voice of his former master: Obi-Wan Kenobi. Vader's whole body tensed. Memories of years of training in the Jedi temple, of the battle on Geonosis, of various missions both before and during the Clone Wars, of a man he had once considered to be a brother. A man who had ultimately betrayed him.

Memories of Mustafar, of their battle there, as the mining facility crumbled beneath them into the river of lava below, flashed through his mind. Their blue lightsabers, flashing and clashing furiously against one another. He had experienced many lightsaber battles in his lifetime, but _none _were as intense as that one. It was, of course, because they knew each other too well, and at the end of the battle, as they fought their way through the facility out onto the massive metal walkway that had become dislocated from the mining facility's main structure, Obi-Wan had disarmed him, taking Vader's lightsaber. Vader, in his fury, had tried to swing the cable he had been on back to attack. He knew now that had he done so successfully, he would have been killed. But, a massive explosion of lava separated them, and the next thing Vader knew, Obi-Wan was gone, having jumped and landed safely on a floating platform, watching as the walkway tumbled over the side of the lava falls.

Vader would have died that night, had he not spotted a small, but sturdy flying droid hovering over the lava river as he'd fallen. Leaping and catching onto it, he'd directed it to the safety of the solid ground below just above the river bank. Having a cliff to climb, by the time Vader had managed to get back to the landing platform, only his personal fighter had been left there. Padme's Nubian cruiser was gone, and Obi-Wan was gone with it…and so was _Padme_. His heart constricting in his chest, he'd frantically searched for her, desperately calling out her name, but finding no trace of her, feeling her life slipping away, until finally, he couldn't feel it anymore. It had snapped, leaving behind an awful, gnawing, gut-wrenching emptiness. Dropping to his knees, Vader had screamed with the agony of it, crying out and begging the Force to give him back his beloved wife and unborn child.

But the Force had ignored his weeping and his wishes.

The next, and last, time he saw her, watching from the shadows, unable to come closer for fear of losing what little control he had of himself, was at her funeral procession to the ship that would take her and their unborn child to the transport that would take her to her final resting place, buried on Naboo. He had wept silent tears, feeling a black void growing inside of him at the loss.

The memories brought back a rage that tinged his vision in an angry blur. His hands gripped the controls in a durasteel grip. Obi-Wan had stolen _his wife_ from him. _She_ had died because _he _hadn't been there to save her, hadn't even known where she was…and their unborn child had died along with her. His _wife, _his _family_...gone forever. All because of Obi-Wan.

"What was your request?" a startled voice brought him back to reality. Obi-Wan had broken off the transmission, and now Vader could feel the other man stretching out through the Force, beginning to probe his presence…Incensed, Vader threw his ship into the fastest gear he could, bringing it racing towards the shuttle. At the same time, the shuttle, normally a slow-moving civilian transport, whirled quickly around, zooming away from the Star Destroyer at a startling speed. Obviously, the ship had been modified, but so had Vader's. His TIE Advanced x1 was literally designed to be one of the fastest ships in the galaxy, if not _the_ fastest.

Sensing him gaining on him, Obi-Wan (or at least he _assumed_ it was Obi-Wan) turned the ship, making a break for the nearby asteroid field, as if the obstacles there would slow Vader down. He scoffed, laughing darkly, though part of him wondered _why_ Obi-Wan would dare try such a trick. He _knew_ Vader was the best pilot in the galaxy...and an asteroid field didn't scare _him_, especially not one as small as the Kauron Asteroid field was. He'd safely flown through much larger asteroid belts before. _This_ would be far too easy.

Still, it was a daring, _gutsy_ move for this pilot to make. Vader was impressed.

So, he pressed on, diving into the chaos that was the asteroid field, dodging expertly up, down, around, and over the floating rocks, weaving expertly through the field at a near breakneck pace. The ship in front of him did the same, not slowing down one bit. In fact, it actually _increased_ its speed. Vader frowned: That certainly wasn't Obi-Wan's style. He _hated_ flying. He always had, often complaining that _flying was for droids._ Sure, his old master could use the Force to help him in his flying, but he wouldn't _ever_ dream of taking the risks _this_ pilot was. Clearly, this pilot was brave, courageous, and highly skilled. Vader respected that. No. Obi-Wan _wasn't_ the pilot, then.

_But, _Obi-Wan was _not_ escaping him this time.

With a raw surge of primal fury, Vader changed his plan, as he fired on the fleeing ship. He was _not_ aiming to maim and capture, as he had originally planned. Not any more. No assassin, no matter how _intriguing_ to Vader personally, was worth letting Obi-Wan get away alive. Again.

The fleeing ship swerved, Vader's shots missing, but he continued to fire. One shot hit the rear stabilizer, and though it caused damage to the ship, it didn't cause as much as it _should_ have. Clearly, the shields, like everything _else_ on this ship, had been modified as well. That didn't bother Vader in the least. His ship had stronger fire power than any TIE fighter ever created. It wouldn't take long to wear those shields down.

His comm pinged. Using the Force, he answered it. Fett's voice rang through the cockpit of his TIE fighter. "I'm in position. I see you now." Anger still boiled through his veins like wildfire, but the sound of Fett's voice brought him back to reality, as he swung his fighter into a tight spiral roll, deftly avoiding two asteroids that collided behind him with a tremendous _CRASH, _sendingshockwaves out that quickly engulfed his ship, forcing him to adjust his speed and pitch to ride out the turbulence and prevent himself from slamming into a larger nearby asteroid.

The plan. He had a plan.

Obi-Wan was _clearly_ allied with this female assassin…which was strange, now that he paused to think about it. Had the _oh_ _so_ _noble_ Obi-Wan sunk to such a level as to resort to crime and sleazy tricks? Although his _every_ instinct screamed at him to destroy the ship…the question was indeed _curious_. Once again, this assassin had an ability that he wouldn't have _ever _thought possible: Turning _Jedi-by-the-book _Obi-Wan into a killer or, at least, an accomplice to one.

With tremendous effort, he forced himself to slow the TIE craft just a little, shooting in such a way that the pilot would be _forced_ to go a certain way. "You're sure you're hidden?" Vader rumbled.

"I'm positive."

"Good." He cut the transmission and continued to fire, keeping his shots aligned in such a way that he herded the ship directly towards where Fett lay in wait. Conveniently, it was also a perfect place for them to jump into hyperspace, but if they timed this _just_ right, they could catch them before they could do so…

But, right as they passed where Fett had hidden the Slave I, their ship rapidly accelerated, as if they _expected_ a trap. Fett's ship rushed from its hiding place, moving to engage, but a split second later…

_A presence_. Just a _tiny _glimmer of one.

It was as if Obi-Wan had lost control of the Force, just a little, and in that one brief moment, his lapse revealed a flash of a different presence in the Force, a presence that made Vader pause, _just_ enough of a pause that he didn't fire like he was about to. He _knew _that presence_. _Hewas_ sure _ofit! _Why_…_Who_? He began to wonder…

Suddenly, they made the jump to hyperspace, and both Obi-Wan and the other familiar presence were gone. Vader hissed an angry curse in Huttese, slowing his TIE fighter, and slamming his fists against his thighs in frustration. The comm pinged again. He angrily switched it on. "You were supposed to intercept them!" Vader snapped, his voice booming across the frequency. Inwardly, he knew that Fett had moved at the right time, but whether by Obi-Wan's intuition from the Force, or the pilot's own ingenuity, they had sped up at _just_ the right moment to narrowly avoid the trap.

"_You_ were supposed to disable the ship." Fett calmly pointed out. He was very lucky that he was not standing before Vader, because that comment would have gotten him immediately cut down by Vader's lightsaber. Still, even as Vader shook in rage, a small part of him whispered that the boy was right. He_ should_ have easily disabled their ship. He would have, but…

Fett was speaking again. "I managed to attach a homing beacon to their hull. We can follow their signal, maybe even root their base out."

Well. It wasn't perfect, but it was still something. "I'll set a course. They won't get away from me. Not this time." He snarled. "Send the tracking information now."

Obi-Wan would die at his hand, he averred, and he _would _find that assassin and get his answers. Then he would be rid of her too, and he could go back to his normal duties.

His navcomputer pinged. Fett had transmitted the coordinates. Flipping on the sublight engines, Vader turned his fighter to the projected course and accelerated into hyperspace.

The hunt was on.

* * *

As the swirls of hyperspace appeared outside of the spaceport, Padme sat back in her pilot's seat, shaking. "You Skywalkers," Obi-Wan groaned, his eyes closed, face pale and sweating. His hands were gripping the arms of his seat in a death grip, his knuckles white. "You're going to be the death of me! Do you know that?! Force, you fly just like _him!_ " He leaned his head back against the chair headrest.

Padme attempted to smile at what she normally would have outright laughed at, but she couldn't muster it up. Obi-Wan had sensed Vader's presence, had cut off speaking in the middle of giving the clearance code to the Star Destroyer. The look he'd given her, the horrified dismay in his eyes as he whispered, "_Vader_," had chilled her to the bone. She'd wasted no time in turning the ship around and making for the asteroid field while the Hyperdrive prepared itself. She hadn't really expected to get away: Anakin…No,_Vader_ was the best pilot in the galaxy, and a Sith Lord, at that. She'd expected to be blown to bits.

But, they weren't. They were still alive and headed back to the planet where they usually dropped their first ship off before taking another unmarked ship back home to Gandle Ott. That they were _not_ dead or captured told her that this had been a setup, a setup they'd managed to narrowly avoid. The other ship that had come out behind them after Obi-Wan had sharply ordered her to speed up had been meant to intercept them. Had she not listened to Obi-Wan, they'd be in _his_ clutches, captured by Darth Vader. It would have _all_ been over. Everything she'd striven to become, everything she'd tried to protect…all of it. Over.

And yet…

She punched in a few keys, wishing absently that they hadn't given Artoo to Bail for safe keeping to maintain the pretense that she really had died so that the droid could have done this. "The systems are assessing the damage to the rear stabilizer." She said, her voice carefully neutral as she stood. "I'm going to lie down for a bit."

"That TIE fighter has _way_ more advanced guns to have torn through the modified shields," Obi-Wan was muttering absently as he watched information flicker across their screens. As she began to leave the cockpit, the second part of what she'd said seemed to hit him. "Hold on a moment, are you sure…?"

"I'm sure." She cut him off, not even turning around to look at him. Any second now, and her hard fought composure would crumble. She didn't bother to wait for Obi-Wan's response before she left the cockpit, heading into one of the sectioned off private quarters she'd had modified when they'd modified the whole ship.

Alone in the room, Padme sat down heavily on the plain cot that was a poor excuse for a bed, staring at the blank gray wall. Her heart hammered in her chest, starting to slow into an aching pain. That had been the first time she had been so close to him since everything had happened on Mustafar. The last time she was even remotely close to him was, so she'd been told, at her 'fake' funeral procession, where she had lain in the open casket under the heavy dose of a drug that produced a convincing death-like state. As a result, she hadn't even realized how close he had been until Bail told her that he'd been deep in the shadows by Darth Sidious' side, watching through that awful mask, arms crossed…

She tried to shove the image out of her head, wishing that it would just go away and she could concentrate on her mission. She'd been foolish to pretend that she'd never have to face him again. Obi-Wan had warned her. Yoda had warned her. Bail had warned her. Mon Monthma had warned her. She kept saying she knew that, but it didn't _fully_ hit her until he had been chasing after them, and it had taken _all_ of her piloting skills - _especially_ the ones _he'd_ taught her- to just barely scrape away from him.

Angry tears began to fall silently down her face. She was angry at Vader for killing the man she loved. She was angry at the Emperor for leading her husband astray and destroying her marriage and _everything_ else she'd worked so hard for, for the galaxy. She was angry at the Clone Wars, and the Jedi for their _stupid_ no-attachments rule, which had led to Anakin's fall in the first place. Most of all, she was angry with _herself_. She had been so focused on politics, on her career, on the war, and on her pregnancy, that when she finally noticed that Anakin was struggling and drifting away from her, and when she had asked for him to leave with her, it was too little, too late.

Now, here they were. Anakin was consumed by Vader, now the scourge of the galaxy. The Emperor was a tyrannical power-hungry despot. The Jedi were scattered to the four winds. And, she...she was an assassin and supposed to be dead. When the Empire was destroyed and Vader actually dead, what would be her future then? One day, her children would grow up and move on. Her mother would die. Obi-Wan and Yoda would eventually re-establish their Jedi Order. So, where would she be? Where did that leave her? She didn't know.

For once in her life, Padme Skywalker had no long-term plan, and _that_ was a very scary thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was SO FUN TO WRITE! I came up with it while at a Star Wars symphony that played the Asteroid Field by John Williams (also my favorite SW score, btw). It just naturally flowed into my brain and I took notes on the program while it happened.   
I kind of already said the song for this chapter, so...  
Leave some love!   
Love,   
LadyVader23


	7. The Confrontation

Easing forward in her pilot's seat, Padme flipped the switch to the loading ramp of their ship. As it slowly lowered, she turned in her chair to face Obi-Wan, who was sitting in the copilot's seat and still looking a bit green around the gills from their unexpected asteroid..._adventure_. She shook her head in mild amusement. "Ok. I've made this _easy_ for you this time, Obi-Wan. I've included _everything_ we need on your datapad." She instructed firmly, flicking her wrist at the device in his hands. "Everything on there is a _necessity_—make this your first priority before you go get the other ship. Remember, if you _don't_ get something, that just means we'll have to come back for yet _another_ shopping trip sooner rather than later. Got it?" She gave him a pointed look, her lips twisting wryly.

Honestly, Obi-Wan was _awful_ at shopping, even for the necessities. Totally _clueless. _Anakin had _never_ had a problem whenever she'd sent _him_ out to the market, even if he went without Threepio or Artoo. He'd always managed to get whatever was needed and rarely forgot anything on the list. _I miss him so much, _the stolen thought crept in as she shook off the resurgence of old memories, her heart twinging with longing for a moment at what once was and couldn't be again.

Sighing, she acknowledged that, in the here and now, Obi-Wan's shopping attempts were at least _improving..._well, somewhat_. _Even though she'd had to cut him some slack at first because he'd never really _had_ to shop before—everything he'd needed had always been given to him by the Jedi Order his entire life. But, now they were fugitives, and _she,_ in particular, was a fugitive with a family to feed. Gandle Ott was so secluded, and thus scarcely populated, even for the Outer Rim that it was not _exactly_ a great place to get everything that they needed. So, if they were running low on supplies, Padme would usually have Obi-Wan get the groceries while they were here in their usual port stop between missions on Daluuj, a planet in the Albanin sector of the Outer Rim, and she then went to get their second ship out of storage.

They had been provided two ships by the Rebellion, a _Star Commuter 2000 _and a _VCX-100 Light Freighter_. Both were modified for ultra fast speed, of course, with all the current shielding upgrades included, as well as other technological advancements (especially weapons upgrades), but they were different makes and models to try to divert any unwanted _Imperial _attention, and since Obi-Wan generally _loathed_ flying and Padme was more naturally adept with piloting skills, _she_ was the one who handled all the maintenance issues and most of the flying of their ships. That meant Obi-Wan had had to learn to be a bit more _domestic_, which- though a touch frustrating - was nonetheless _amusing_ to watch.

But, now their first ship, the _Star Commuter 2000_, was damaged and in need of repairs, thanks to Vader's well placed shots to the rear stabilizer. If they didn't have it repaired before their next mission, the onboard computer indicated that it might not start back up again. Unfortunately, their second ship, the _VCX-100 freighter_ and the market place were in a small, inconspicuous town here, and there were _no_ ship repair shops in close proximity. They were actually lucky this town even _had_ an adequate sized spaceport they could store their ship in while they were out on missions. But, without an available repair shop, Padme was forced to leave Obi-Wan to get the supplies _and_ retrieve their second ship while she flew their _Commuter 2000_ to the nearest repair shop to get the rear stabilizer fixed. Unfortunately, it was in the next city over, a forty-five minute flight away. It was a risky move, but after she and Obi-Wan had argued about it for an hour, she managed to convince him that one person bringing in a damaged ship wouldn't be as memorable or conspicuous as _two_ masked people bringing in a damaged ship. He could fly over and pick her up once he'd gotten everything purchased and loaded onto their _VCX freighter_.

"Fine, fine," Obi-Wan grumbled unhappily, rubbing his temples agitatedly, "_But..._you be careful. Do not hesitate to call me on the secure comm line if you run into any trouble." The look he shot her was pointed.

"_Yes, Master," _came her cheeky reply, which earned her a glower from those blue-green eyes and a muttered, "_Incorrigible Skywalkers," _as Obi-Wan stood from his seat and exited the cockpit.

Smirking, her eyes twinkling with mischief at the Jedi Master (no _wonder _Anakin had always enjoyed goading him. It was just _too_ easy) Padme nodded resignedly, already turning back to the control panel and refiring the engines. Obi-Wan was only stating the obvious, of course. Daluuj had more of an Imperial presence than Gandle Ott (which had almost none and was why it was chosen as their hideout), what with its Imperial Training Center, but that was in the capital city of Oldranai on the other side of the planet. This side of Daluuj didn't have enough of a presence so that it was particularly dangerous. She'd been on _plenty_ of treacherous, well-guarded, Imperial controlled planets since she'd started her work as an assassin. Still, she couldn't blame Obi-Wan for being overly cautious. They had, after all, just been chased by Darth Vader only mere hours before.

And barely escaped.

She quickly shoved that thought away. No. She _wouldn't _think about it. One step at a time. Get these repairs done, get restocked, and then she could get back home to her kids and her mother and just take some much needed time off to be with them and clear her head.

The moment Obi-Wan exited the ship, she pushed the switch to close the ramp, and then took off towards the next city. What would have taken days by foot or land speeder took Padme only about forty-five minutes of flying over the barren canyons of the desert planet below her. It wasn't a desert planet like Tatooine was with its never ending sea of sand, but it was still not an environment that she would _ever_ want to be stranded in. She avoided looking down at the ground below her, for every time she did, she was strongly reminded of the sweet little boy she'd met on Tatooine all those years ago…

The city wasn't even really a _city_—rather just a slightly bigger town. It was all industrialized, with plenty of factories and mechanic shops scattered about the landscape. The only beings that really lived here were employees of the various businesses represented. Most people lived on the fringes of the city, or in other surrounding towns, and would only take day trips to the city whenever they needed something from it. As Padme flew in low over the city skyline, looking for the right mechanic shop she had researched and found on the Holonet long before now, just in case something like this _were_ to happen, she couldn't help but notice, with some concern, the multiple Stormtroopers visible out patrolling the streets below. She scowled, but didn't put_ too _much thought into it. This _was _an Imperial controlled sector, she reminded herself. It was normal for Stormtroopers to be out and about in this city. It would actually be suspicious if they_ weren't _there. Someday, _that_ would change. Stormtroopers would be no more, and the Republic would return, this time steadfast and strong.

She would make sure of that.

Finally, she found it on the outskirts of town, setting the ship down easily in front of the complex. Before she shut down power, she made sure to wipe the ship's log and all related information as to where they'd actually traveled on this mission, replacing the data with falsified information provided by the Rebellion. Once that was done, she powered down the ship, feeling the ship shudder, confirming her worries that it needed immediate repairs. "Well," she muttered to herself, as she stood and made her way off the ship, "At least we made it here in one piece. Thank the Force."

Briefly, she thought that if only Anakin were here, _he_ would have been able to fix the ship at little to no cost...and quickly. But, she reminded herself bitterly, her face twisting with a grimace, it had been _Vader _that had damaged the ship in the first place…How ironic! A perfectly diametric description present in this situation of the two _vastly_ different men who happened to occupy the same body.

One took pride in _fixing _things—the other took pride in _destroying_ things.

When she stepped off the loading ramp, she was buffeted by a sweltering desert breeze, which whipped and tugged at her black cloak as she walked over to the loading bays to be greeted by an oily Besalisk. At first, she stopped dead in her tracks because, for a brief moment, he reminded her so much of Dexter that she thought it _was_ him at first. But, no, this Besalisk was darker skinned, and a bit thinner, though not by much. "Greetins, Friend." He said, eyeing her hood, cloak, and her mask warily. She knew that the mask was a _bit_ suspicious, but she also didn't want to risk being identified. "Ship need fixin?"

"It does." She kept her voice low and cool in the carefully accented way she usually spoke to those who didn't know her true identity beneath the mask. Vocal alteration had been impressed upon her as a necessary tool in the assassin trade, and one that she had utilized frequently - and successfully - since beginning her training. This allowed her to travel throughout the galaxy without having an identifiable voice marker. Besides, she had been a well-known public figure for so long, it wasn't _just_ her face that was recognizable. Her own natural _voice_ could have been just as easily recognized as well. Though she doubted this Besalisk was all that interested in Inter-Galactic politics, she couldn't take the risk of finding out. "Got into a scuffle with some pirates. Damaged my rear stabilizer. Think you can fix it?"

His eyes narrowed, and she knew what he was doing—he was sizing her up. Deciding on how much he was going to demand of her to pay. But, she was no easy mark. Casually, she shifted her cloak so that the twin blasters on her hips were visible. She saw his eyes flicker there, and they hardened with decision. "I can repair it...for a price." He said, predictably.

"Of course. As long as it's a _fair_ price." She quirked an eyebrow at him, staring him straight in the eye, her look one that warned she wasn't to be trifled with.

The price he started out at _was_ reasonable, but still a bit too pricey. Clearly, he wasn't taking chances with her. _Good_, she thought, as she haggled a better deal. His hesitation meant that the getup she wore was working: It not only concealed her identity, but it also made her appear menacing. And, to be frank, she certainly _was_ menacing, quite capable of killing this creature in a split second right where he stood...and he'd never see it coming. After all, she _was_ an assassin now.

And, a _good_ one.

Finally, they agreed on a price. Padme paid half of it up front, with the other half due upon completion of the repairs. "When do ya need it dun by?" The Besalisk asked.

"Two weeks." She answered. Two weeks, and she'd be back on another mission.

The Besalisk nodded. "It'll be done."

With that settled, Padme turned and left the shop property, exiting out onto the cracked and unkempt street, heading for the junkyard where she would meet Obi-Wan. Already, the heat of the day was practically baking the ground, and being in all black, and with an outfit that covered her whole body other than her eyes, she was soon sticky with sweat. She took one sniff, and found that she didn't _smell_ that great either. _I could sure use a shower, _she thought but shook her head and tried not to focus on it too much, and instead paid attention to her surroundings. There were some citizens mulling about, though they were focused on their own tasks and didn't bother to pay her any attention, which was fine by her. Stormtroopers patrolled the street, as they usually did, and occasionally they'd give her a curious look, but none of them investigated. This _was_ the Outer Rim, after all. Shady figures far worse appearing than _her_ lurked on planets like this.

Still, she casually quickened her step, anxious to get to the meeting place so that she could get into a climate-controlled ship again. The first thing she would do when she got home, after giving her children hugs and kisses of course, was take a _long,_ cold shower. Ice cold. She normally hated cold showers, but after today...

She rounded a corner and almost stopped. Was it just her imagination, or were there an alarmingly high number of Stormtroopers present on this particular street? Yes, she decided, forcing herself to act natural and keep walking. There were. She was not a Jedi. She did not have the ability to tell just by reaching out with her feelings whether or not she was in significant danger. Still, Yoda had taught her to trust her instincts, that the Force could guide and help her if she trusted in it…and right now, all her instincts were telling her that she was walking into a trap.

She couldn't turn around though and go the other way. That would be an obvious indicator that she was up to no good, had something to hide. Her eyes began to scan the street for _any _avenue she could use to casually escape, but as far as she could see, this street was well guarded, almost as if they'd _expected _her to come down this route.

_Kriff._

The buildings were built close together, with gaps between them that were too small for her to escape through. Still, she continued to search, sweeping her gaze left and right, up and down, as she walked, vividly aware that Stormtroopers were attempting to imperceptibly begin to patrol closer towards her, and the fact that the last of the civilians on that street had seemed to disappear into their homes. Part of her brain began to scream at her that she was trapped and to just give in and surrender now. But, Padme wouldn't go down without a fight. No. She _refused_ to willingly submit to the Empire.

She would die to protect the Rebellion - even by her own hand, if necessary - before she was captured.

So, she kept walking casually, acting like she was too oblivious, or too stupid, to notice that the street was full of Stormtroopers. Already, she was calculating what her odds would be if she fought back. She swept the street with her eyes again. She had no cover to duck behind. The street was too open —she would be shot to pieces before she got very far. She could only deflect so many blaster bolts with her lightsaber. She considered contacting Obi-Wan on the comm, but she could feel herself being watched and thus, discarded the idea. That would be too obvious…_Obi-Wan's not going to like this, _she thought, already dreading the lecture she _knew_ would be forthcoming.

That's when she saw it.

_There! _A gap between two buildings. She was _just_ barely small enough to slip through it, and even with her diminutive form, it would _still_ be a tight squeeze. She stopped abruptly, casually leaning down as if she needed to adjust the buckles of her boots.

"Stop right there." An almost mechanical voice ordered from behind her. She froze, though her hand was now on the hilt of her blaster. "Stand up. Slowly." She did as she was ordered, moving slow, her muscles tensing and ready to spring into the gap next to her. "Turn around!" She did so, also slowly, deliberately, keeping the corner of her eye on the gap. There were only two Stormtroopers standing there behind her, pointing their blasters at her. The other squadrons of troopers were beginning to slow their pace and close in. Inwardly, she cursed again, this time in Huttese. She was going to have to move lightning fast. "Put your hands up!"

"Sure," she said casually, bringing her left hand from beneath her cloak…and shot both troopers in the chest at near point blank range with two quick, perfectly precise shots. At this distance, their armor didn't stand a chance, and they were blown backwards from the force of the impact onto the pavement, dead. She didn't wait to see that though—her other hand ignited the lightsaber she had also grabbed from her belt, igniting it and whirling, deflecting the barrage of blaster shots that instantly erupted. She barely managed it, though, before she backed toward the gap and then squeezed herself into it, turning the lightsaber off so that she could concentrate on scooching as fast as possible through the gap and out to the other street.

It started off fine—she could hear the troopers rushing to the gap, and she knew she only had seconds—but right as her upper torso escaped the gap, half of her freed, her hips got stuck. "_Sith's spit!_" She hissed. Sure, she had lost _most_ of the baby fat from having the twins, but the last of it seemed stuck in her breasts and hips, both of which certainly_ were _a lot more rounded than they'd been before she'd been pregnant. She normally didn't mind like most women seemed to, but right _now, _when she was stuck and running for her life, she did mind.

_Dammit!_

A blaster shot, fired at her from behind, just barely missed her. Desperately, she pressed both gloved hands on either side of her, bracing against the two buildings she was stuck between, and, sucking in her gut as much as she could, she heaved with all her might until she was finally, barely, able to squeeze through the opening. The sudden freedom from her constricted position caused her to fall forward into the street, where she awkwardly rolled to her feet and scrambled away from the opening. Blaster shots were firing wildly into the gap she had slipped through, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they circled around and blocked both ends of the street she was now on. That trick wouldn't keep working, and next time, she_ really _might get trapped. She had to find another way to escape. Looking toward the rooftops, she understood immediately where she had to go.

Up.

She had barely thought the word before she was grabbing the window sill of the building she was pressed against, leaping with mild effort to the next hand hold on the building. Thankfully, one of the assassins she had trained under taught her thoroughly on how to scale buildings...in any environment or circumstance. Thanking the Force for that man's knowledge and tutelage, she used those skills now, grabbing onto window sills, then a drainage pipe, as well as other chipped dents in the wall to make her way quickly up the side of the building, and soon she was rolling clear onto the flattened roof, breathing heavily from the exertion, completely drenched with sweat inside her assassin's garb.

She didn't stop though, even though her entire exhausted body screamed at her to do so. She couldn't, or she'd risk being killed, or worse, _captured_. She had to make it back to her children. They needed her…the Rebellion needed her. She began to run, practically flying across the rooftops, jumping from building to building. From below, blasters were fired at her from the streets. The Stormtroopers had been quick to loop around the block, and glancing over her shoulder and down, she saw that she had been right to escape to the rooftops. The streets were swarming with troopers, and they were all after _her_.

She picked up her pace even more, continuing to leap between buildings, each breath feeling like fire in her lungs. She heard shouts as troopers tried to climb up onto the roof to follow her, but in their clumsy white armor, most of them failed. Soon, however, there were a few who had been successful in reaching the roof, and they began to awkwardly lumber after her, firing and missing her as she ducked and dodged. She considered stopping and fighting, but she wasn't in a good position. So, she scanned the area around her, looking for a good place to make her stand while she waited for Obi-Wan…

There.

The end of the street dead-ended with a large metal fence. Beyond that fence lay the junkyard she was supposed to meet Obi-Wan in. Given that she was on the rooftops, she would easily bypass the gate while the Stormtroopers below had to either find a way over it, around it, or through it. She could use the junkyard as a place to lose most of them, and she could take out the ones she didn't lose while she contacted Obi-Wan.

She forced herself to speed up, and as she reached the last building, she whirled, pulling one of her heavy Corellian blasters out again and shooting the troopers on the roof quickly and with ease. They went down, all head shots. Smirking, she would have taken a moment to be a little proud of her quick work, but she didn't have time. Already, the Stormtroopers below were trying to cut through the fence, while others continued to shoot at her. She ducked their blasts, running to the edge of the roof…and stopping. The wall of the building had no hand holds that she could see. She scanned it again, refusing to believe that there wasn't a way down, and found another drainage pipe that ran down the edge of the building. It was close to the Stormtroopers, yes, but _if_ she was quick enough…

Hell, she'd _make_ it work.

Ducking yet more blaster shots, she carefully climbed over the edge of the building, holding onto the edge with a tight grip. Using her hands, she scooted left over to the drainage pipe, hanging on the side of the building with nothing but her hands, and grabbed hold of it. Immediately, she began to slide down, the leather of her gloves growing uncomfortably warm from the friction. But, she didn't dare slow down, however. Blaster fire was everywhere, many bolts narrowly missing her. If she slowed down, she was dead, and…

_ **BANG!** _

A laser bolt hit the metal above her head, melting away a chunk of the pipe. She certainly wasn't _heavy_ by any means, but still, under her weight, the pipe groaned and shook, and as she drew nearer to the ground, it abruptly tore away from the building. Suddenly no longer in a controlled descent, she found herself hurtling the last few feet towards the ground in a freefall, the metal pipe screeching after her.

Her scream stuck in her throat, coming out more like a sharp gasp. A split second later, she hit the ground feet first before collapsing in a heap, and pain immediately lanced through her ankle and up her leg. She cried out involuntarily and then bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, to keep from crying out in even more pain. She could hear the Stormtroopers trying to get through the metal fence, but so far, she was alone in the junkyard.

Looking around at her surroundings, she paused to get her bearings, catch her breath, and allow the pain radiating through her leg to subside some, she could see spare ship parts were cast haphazardly into random piles. Giant hunks of metal stuck out of the mountains of trash like monuments to ancient, forgotten ships. Really, there was no true way for her to tell if she was alone. She was no Jedi. She couldn't sense the presences of others.

No. She had to get up. She had to keep going, find a hiding place to safely contact Obi-Wan. Taking a deep breath, she slowly pushed herself to her feet, the move causing waves of pain to crawl up her body, so sharp it momentarily sucked the breath from her lungs. As she settled on her feet, she felt sharp, stinging pain shooting up her leg, but she forced herself to ignore it. She had to. She wasn't free yet. She could wallow in pain (and a bacta tank if needed) later, but she didn't think anything was broken. Sprained, probably. Bruised, certainly. But not broken. A good thing.

She began to stumble forward, one hand still brandishing her blaster, while the other stayed close to her lightsaber. She wandered for a few minutes, trying to find a good secure place to hide, going deeper and deeper into the rather substantial sized junkyard. Each corner she turned, she imagined that a Stormtrooper squad would be waiting there to intercept her, but so far, each time it was empty and silent. Hmm...

_Too silent._

She paused, her instincts screaming at her that _something_ was sounds of the Stormtroopers were gone. That was..._odd_. No blaster shots. No shouts for assistance. No sounds of cutting metal from the entryway. This was _not_ good. Her instincts were screaming at her to get out of there somehow, some way. It didn't matter. _Where is Obi-Wan? _She thought frantically…and then remembered. She hadn't contacted him yet. "_Damn and blast!_," she swore, reaching down to the comm link at her belt. She'd have to hold off the troopers for forty-five minutes, at least. It was not a pleasant thought…_How do I get myself into these messes? _She wondered to herself.

That's when she heard it.

The steady, mechanical breathing that she had only heard about in stories from those who had been around _him_ in that awful suit...and lived to tell the tale. Her entire body froze, tensing, realizing that there was literally _nowhere _for her to run. Not from him. Not anymore. _Shit!_

He'd found her.

* * *

Despite Daluuj being an Outer Rim planet with few resources, it hadn't been all _that_ hard to set the trap. Once he'd realized where their damaged ship was heading, likely for repairs to the rear stabilizer he'd hit, it had been fairly easy to increase Stormtrooper squads in the area. After all, this _was_ an Imperial controlled planet. When he'd contacted the Lieutenant at the Imperial Training Center in Oldranai, the capital city, with the order, the man had been so frantic at the thought of Vader coming to _personally_ apprehend someone in their sector, he'd practically fallen all over himself to get his men out of their barracks and into the troop transports to make the trip to the other side of the planet and thus into the streets of this town to await their..._hunted prey_. At least, when Vader circled the city from above in his TIE fighter after coming out of hyperspace, and observed the street below where the trap was to take place, that's what it _seemed_ like. Everything was going according to his plan.

_Perfect._

He was sure that every Stormtrooper in that city had been placed on the street, augmented by the arrival of the additional squadrons of troops from the training center. Still, he hadn't been concerned. He preferred his target caught alive, but _if_ they died…well, he certainly _would_ enjoy Kenobi's death for sure, though he preferred it to be at _his_ own hands. And, as for this _intriguing_ assassin, if he had to forego getting his answers from her _about_ her...at least he could report truthfully to the Emperor that she had been taken care of, and then he could go back to his primary objective of ridding the galaxy of the remaining Jedi and crushing the Rebellion.

Using the Force, he looked for a place to set his TIE fighter down. It wasn't long before the Force pulled at him, bringing him to hover over a junkyard at the very far end of where the trap would take place. He frowned. Perhaps he misunderstood. _Why_ would he need to set his ship down in a dilapidated old junkyard? The Force tugged at him again, harder this time, and he scowled, but nevertheless, obeyed. If the Force was _that_ insistent…

By the time he had landed and powered his TIE fighter down, his comm pinged. He glanced at the display and let out an irritated sigh before he answered. "You'd better have good news, Lieutenant." He snarled at the image of the blatantly quivering man.

"Y-Yes Sir," The man stammered, as he performed a salute. "The trap is under way, Lord Vader. She tried to escape to the next street over, but we're close on her heels, Sir."

"Good." Vader rumbled, and paused. "Was she with anyone?"

"No, Lord Vader," The man shook his head. "She appears to be alone."

_Damn._ Where the hell had Kenobi gotten to? Then again, he highly doubted Kenobi had expected them to be followed, they had fled from Kauron through the asteroid field so quickly. Perhaps Obi-Wan had wandered off, leaving the assassin alone to bring their ship in for repairs. This seemed out of character for the Jedi. Kenobi was obviously..._close_ to this woman, and he'd always been a rather gallant fellow in times past. No matter. He would not be long away, Vader was sure of it. The moment he sensed that his ally was in danger, he would come running.

_And, I will be there to __**end**__ him when he arrives, _Vader thought, as a feral grin spread across his face. "Do _not _lose her, Lieutenant, " Vader snapped, "And…" He broke off as a feeling of severe pain suddenly broke through his mental shields. He was used to those around him being in pain. He'd been a warrior for so long, it seemed like he was destined to be surrounded by the pain of others his whole life, to bask in it, to draw strength from it.

But this…this was different. And way, way _too familiar._ No. It _couldn't _be...Could it?

His heart leapt into his throat. He let out a shuddering breath, the air _whooshing_ out of his lungs in shock. Distantly, he could hear the Lieutenant asking what was wrong over the commlink, but he ignored it. Instead, he stretched out with the Force, looking for the source of that pain that had begun to fade into something manageable…

And, he found her. Her presence.

It was the same as he remembered it, and yet…_different_ at the same time. More fragile. Like the bright shining light it had once been was somehow weakening, flickering, due to fade out at any moment and be surrounded by abject darkness. He stopped breathing, checking again, then double checking, then triple checking—each time, he recognized her presence instantly. It was beautifully refreshing, just as she'd always been to him. He would know her anywhere. Already, his heart, his_ soul_, felt like it was coming alive again, breaking loose from the bonds of hell he had been encased in, for the first time in two long lonely years.

_Padme. His Angel. His Wife._

"Stand down!" His yelled, his voice was harsh, sounding monstrously loud through the mask. He _couldn't_ let those idiotic Stormtroopers anywhere _near _her! He could already feel that she'd been injured...but _Force_, she was dead! She _had_ to be dead! This had to be a dream! Ok, a _weird _and totally surreal one, but a dream nonetheless! He'd been present at her _funeral, _for Kriff's sake!

The hologram of the Lieutenant blinked in surprise. "I'm…W-what, Sir?"

Vader fixed the full weight of the black, terrifying stare of the mask of Darth Vader on the man. "Stand. Down. _**Now.**_ That is an order, Lieutenant."

"Y-Yes, Lord Vader. At once, Sir!" The transmission cut, and Vader used the Force to open the hatch to his TIE fighter, leaping effortlessly out of it in one graceful move. The moment his boots hit the ground, he was striding purposefully towards the presence that was…well, at least an almost identical copy of hers. Yes, that was it. It _had_ to be a copy. A clone, maybe? But…No. He'd met clones, worked with clones for years, and _this_ wasn't the same thing. So, what then? An imposter? That couldn't be it either, because it was literally_ impossible _to fake a Force Presence, even for those not Force Sensitive.

But, _how_ could he be sensing this? _Why_ was he sensing this? She was _dead!_ He'd seen her funeral procession with his own two eyes! He'd felt their Force connection snap with her death after Mustafar. If she'd somehow lived after that, shouldn't he have found her much sooner than _this?_

He _had_ to find out.

He followed the presence deeper and deeper into the junkyard, winding through a maze of heaping trash piles, feeling the Force surging stronger through him with each step he took. He could feel her pain, her worry, her fear and desperation to get out of there. None of that fully registered in his brain—No, he had to confirm she was real, because she _shouldn't _have been real. It was some sort of a trick. It just _had_ to be. Yes, an elaborate hoax meant to torment him and increase his mental and emotional anguish, and he _swore_ that if this _was_ a trick concocted by Sidious as a stupid test of loyalty, he'd fly straight to Coruscant and murder the Sith Lord himself!

The presence suddenly stopped moving, as he was beginning to catch up. He sped up, turning round the last corner…and halted in his tracks. There she…_whoever_ she really was….stood, her slender back turned to him. He swept her petite form from head to toe with his gaze...and he had to admit...he'd have to blind not to notice how _alluringly_ shaped her body was, as the black body-hugging outfit she wore left little to his imagination.

The Force suddenly swept through his body in a surcharged _pulse_ so strong it nearly dropped him to his knees, and he felt the first real stirrings of physical _desire _he'd had since the last time he'd made love to Padme, before Mustafar. His blood pounded in his veins, his breathing hitched, and he felt heat rise in his cheeks, as a fine bead of sweat broke out across his upper lip. The breathing apparatus that automatically started whenever he put the mask on was the only sound in the silence that stretched out between them. He desperately wanted to take the offensive mask off, to show her that he still lived, that he _still_ loved her so very much…but he still wasn't sure if it was _really_ her or not.

Eternity.

That's what it felt like as he watched, and felt, her body tense when she realized exactly _who _it was behind her. She was wearing that all black cloak that covered her head. He felt her intense fear shudder through her...and her unbelievable _anger_, which stunned him in its intensity. These were emotions that he couldn't quite put with Padme, and yet if it _was_ her…Well, he had _a lot_ of questions to be answered.

And, _a lot_ of explaining to do.

Suddenly, she whirled on him, firing off multiple shots from her blaster at him. Shocked, by both her speed and skill and the fact that she would attack him, he barely moved in time to react, using a Force-shield to block and absorb the blasts. She kept firing, despite it doing no damage to him whatsoever. Irritated more than he was angry, as if he were swatting away flies rather than blaster shots, he used the Force to rip the blaster from her hand, calling it into his own. Glancing at it, he was surprised to find it was a Corellian made heavy duty blaster...a far heavier and more powerful weapon than what Padme had always carried before. She had come packing some heat. _That_ was not his wife's style.

Still, if ripping her blaster from her hand shocked her, she didn't show it. Immediately, she whipped out a lightsaber, igniting it with the familiar snap-hiss, the brilliant blue blade roaring to life. Even at this distance, Vader could see the blue light illuminating those rich dark brown eyes…just like hers had always been…

She charged at him.

He snapped himself out of his flustered stupor just in time to dodge her. She whooshed past him with an agility he was impressed by, and as she did, he reached out towards her, using the Force to pull the hood down off her head, revealing thick hair braided carefully down her back, the same hue of chestnut brown that Padme's had been…

He felt another spike of fear and desperation shudder through her.

She pivoted, the mask still firmly over her face, and she expertly twirled and brandished the blue bladed saber high over her head, bringing it down in an arc towards him. He used the Force to call his own lightsaber to his hand, igniting it just in time to block hers. For a moment, they stayed locked like that, her eyes, hatred swirling in their depths, meeting his through the mask. Vader was momentarily stunned...at both the enmity and malice in those beautiful brown orbs, as well as the powerful physical _strength _and _prowess _she exhibited, as she easily held their sabers locked. She was toned. She was trained. Another wave of desire surged hot and primal through him, and he couldn't stop the animalistic growl that rumbled forth from his chest.

No wonder he wanted her.

Momentarily, his gaze slipped to the lightsaber she wielded—_Force!_ Was that _his _lightsaber?! Dammit! Yes, it certainly _was!_ He'd know that lightsaber anywhere! It had been an extension of himself at one point in his life not to long ago, a part of his very soul. He'd crafted it with such care after the harrowing mission he'd gone on to find that blue crystal in the first place. _How_ did she have it? _Where_ did she get it from? Ahhh, yes…

Kenobi. He must have given it to her after he'd stolen it from him on Mustafar! And, taught her how to use it, obviously.

She jumped away from him suddenly, disengaging. _Oh, no you don't_...He wouldn't let her get away. He _had_ to know. He used the Force to close the distance between them rapidly. She yelped as he did so, trying to scramble back away from, to block him with her..._his_ saber…But, his gloved hand was already reaching up toward her face, grasping her mask, and yanking it off. There was some resistance, but he managed to pull it off, revealing the face underneath it.

He simply stared at the truth in her face.

His whole world stopped as the breathtakingly beautiful countenance of the woman he'd so dearly loved almost his entire life was revealed to him once again. It was the face of the woman he still dreamed about whenever he _did _actually sleep. It was the face of the woman who haunted his memories. It was the face of the woman who had once been - and technically still _was, _he assumed - his wife and his lover, in secret. It was the face of the woman who had once been his only source of light in the darkest, most painful moments of his life.

It was the face of the woman he'd betrayed. The face of the woman he'd thought he'd killed.

And yet…Here she stood before him. Alive. Breathing. Still incredibly beautiful, breathtakingly so. Glaring at him with such malevolence (and fear), but still alive. The blue lightsaber that had once been his hummed in her hand. He felt his love for her reverberate throughout his entire body. His beloved wife was alive! "_Padme,"_ he breathed, though it came out distorted and deep through his vocalizer.

With just that one word, her face twisted and contorted with a menacing snarl. "_Padme is dead."_ She spat out through clenched teeth, as she rushed at him again, and he barely had enough sense to block her attacks. Astounded at her amazing level of skill with the weapon, she swung at him hard and fast with a rapid fire series of moves he found himself struggling to keep up with…moves that _Yoda himself_ would have been proud of...his_, _no _her_ lightsaber smashing against his red one. He blocked each slash of her blade, but it was all instinctual. He wasn't fighting back, merely stopping her from harming either of them. There was no brutality there normally was when he wielded a blade. He couldn't help it. He just…_stared_ at her. She was alive.

_His Angel._

_His Padme._

_His wife._

And, she was dueling him with a lightsaber...almost as well as any Jedi or Sith _he'd _ever crossed blades with before. And, she was trying to _kill him!_ He realized then that she must not know who he really was. Dimly, he remembered Obi-Wan had been with her on that ship (_Force_, he'd almost tried to blow her ship to shreds!). He was sure that Obi-Wan must have told her he was dead after Mustafar. He _should_ have been angry with the idea of her being with Obi-Wan, and deep down, he probably _was_, but at the moment, all he was, was just shocked. It was a miracle of the Force she hadn't run him through yet.

Using the Force, he _gently _pushed her back, not wanting to harm her further. He heard her hiss in pain, and he felt her pain, too. He felt bad, but he _had _to create enough space between that so that he could let her know it was _him._ Before she could launch herself back at him in a fresh wave of fury, he reached up, finding the edges of his helmet, and pulled it off with a snap hiss. Real fresh, though still uncomfortably warm, air hit his face for the first time in _years._ The breathing apparatus stopped. His unruly, long blonde curls, sweaty at the moment, bounced in the wind, tendrils sweeping across his forehead and cheeks. He met Padme's wide paralyzed eyes, and dropped the mask to the ground. Neither of them moved for the span of multiple heartbeats.

In that moment, he wasn't Vader. He was _Anakin_, and he was staring at his beautiful, beloved, and somehow still alive, wife. "_Padme_," His voice, his real voice, full of love and longing, breathed out her name like a caress on the wind. She was frozen, and her emotions were so wild and convoluted that he couldn't quite catch all of them. "_Angel! _I thought….I felt you _die!_"

Padme's mouth twitched, just barely. "I did die," She snarled viciously, and though her voice was so familiar, so achingly familiar that it tore his heart to shreds, it was also filled with so much hostility that it was almost staggering. "I died the night I lost my husband to _**you!**_"

Anakin shook his head fervently, his curls bouncing around his forehead. "No, Angel," he insisted, "Don't you see? I'm right here! I'm alive, Sweetheart!" He made a move toward her, his arms outstretched to embrace her.

"What I see," Padme replied bitterly, her nostrils flaring, face full of loathing, "Is the _evil_ man who took over the body of the good man I married. My husband is _dead! _You are _**not **_my husband!"

Then she launched herself forward, unleashing such a furious barrage of attacks with her…_his_ lightsaber, that in his stunned state, he barely blocked her. Her words kept ricocheting in his head, round and round: _You are not my husband. You are not my husband. You are __**not **__my husband!_

_Yes, I __**am**__ your husband! I still love you!, _he wanted so badly to argue. _How_ could she say that he wasn't her husband?! He was Anakin Skywalker, dammit, and they'd married…

Oh. Wait.

No, he _wasn't_ the same man she'd married, was he? No. He was Vader now. Anakin Skywalker had died the moment Padme Amidala Skywalker had died.

But yet…here she was. Alive and currently trying very hard to end his own life.

In that instant, he became aware of another presence coming upon them…_fast_. He barely recognized it, so focused was he on Padme. But, as the presence was practically on top of them, he finally noticed.

Obi-Wan.

He glanced up for a millisecond into the sky. There was another ship. There was nothing noticeable about it. There were literally millions of ships like that in the galaxy. A _VCX light freighter_, he noted. The loading ramp was opening in midair, as if…His breath hitched as he realized what Obi-Wan was trying to do.

He was trying to take Padme away from him again! Just like before!

Desperately, Anakin tried to disarm her, but she was already beginning to retreat. "No!" He screamed, pleading with her not to leave, his eyes meeting hers, "Don't go, Angel! _Please!_ Not now, not after…"

There was a slight hesitation in those beautiful brown eyes, but it was quickly overshadowed by determination. He recognized that look. He'd seen it in her eyes many, many times before. As he rushed for her, she reached to her belt, brandishing something small and black and…

She threw it on the ground between them.

Thick, pungent smoke filled the air, choking him, making him cough. Without his mask and its inbuilt filtration system, it entered his nose and his eyes, making them water, blinding him, making it impossible for him to breathe. Still, he tried to move to grab her, tried to get to her…But, Obi-Wan had already moved the ship close enough for her to jump up onto the ramp. He was already taking off. As the distance to the ground increased, she still stood there on the ramp, impassively, her face in a neutral mask, holding onto one of the poles that adjusted it, staring at him, his lightsaber still ignited and lighting her in a blue glow as the ship sped away across the barren terrain.

"_PADME!_" He roared, running futilely after it.

He didn't catch it. And it didn't come back. He'd found her, only to lose her again.

And, that's when it hit him._ Padme_ was the assassin._ Padme _was the one killing Imperials. _Padme _was the one who had convinced Obi-Wan to abandon his noble, high and mighty ideals, to join her in this crusade.

His Padme had chosen to become his enemy. But, not for long.

As he stared at her fleeing ship, growing smaller as it raced away from him toward the atmosphere above, he vowed that he_ would_ get his wife back.

And, nothing and no one in the galaxy would keep them apart this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He knoooooows!!!!   
Obviously, Vader/Anakin was in shock. If he wasn't, the fight would have ended very differently.  
The songs for this are: The Pit of Carkoon/Sail Barage Assault by John Williams and The Winter Soldier from the movie The Winter Soldier.


	8. The Aftermath

_Whump_

The landing gear engaged in the peaceful solitude of the forest in this remote region of Gandle Ott as the vehicle was set down on the landing pad next to the nondescript, sprawling, one-story structure with flawless precision. The gentle sounds of water gurgling in a nearby stream and the melodic chirping of native fowl in the surrounding trees doing nothing to soothe her agitation, as it normally did.

_Be quiet, pleaseeee! I just want to be alone!_

The thoughts, directed at her companion, screamed through her head, as she shut down the speeder and prepared to disembark. She knew the wish was a futile one. When had he ever been one to let something like this go? _Never_, she realized. Honestly, though she had always been well known for her tenaciousness, she had to wonder if he didn't one up her in that regard. He'd been silent since they'd landed in the hanger in the capital, loaded their supplies in their waiting speeder, and took off for home, but now that they were safely home, she had no doubts he would once again try to force the issue.

Sometimes, she hated being right.

"Padme, _please_…" Obi-Wan tried, for about the thousandth time since he'd rescued her from her duel with Vader, to open a discussion about the encounter. She had just parked the speeder outside of their...well, her home really, her entire body still shaking with the adrenaline rush, suffused with so many conflicting, raging emotions…

"_**No**_, Obi-Wan." She cut him off for about the thousandth time since he'd started pushing her to talk about what happened. She needed…truthfully, she wasn't really sure what she needed exactly, but whatever it was, it didn't involve Obi-Wan, or Yoda, or her mother, or anyone else for that matter. She needed to be _alone_. She needed to clear her head and _think_, to have time to process what had happened. Her body still felt numb, barely able to contain the swirling turbulent tide of emotions coalescing in her breast, and she needed an undisturbed sanctuary in which to release it without anyone there to bear the brunt of it. If she spoke to Obi-Wan about it _now_, she would say unforgivable, irrational things.

Besides, he wouldn't...no _couldn't_...understand. Ever.

_Because, it was the Jedi way, _she thought sardonically with a grimace_._

She reached the backdoor, barely having enough conscious sense to open it, and stumbled over the threshold into the house, leaving Obi-Wan to unload all their supplies. Her mother could put everything away. Given the noticeable lack of children's voices squabbling over whatever it was they both wanted at the same time, Padme assumed the twins were out and about in the vicinity of the house, outside somewhere exploring, with Yoda. When her mother appeared at the kitchen doorway, looking unconcerned and relaxed, Padme figured that was exactly what they were doing. "Welcome back," Her mom began, starting to smile…but that promptly faded when she saw the look on her daughter's face...and in her eyes. Instantly, she sobered. "What's wrong? What happened, Sweetheart?"

Padme just shook her head, moving to brush past her mother, hearing Obi-Wan come into the house behind her. "Padme, you can't ignore the issue forever, we need to…" Obi-Wan, persistent to the core, continued to pressure her, and Padme finally snapped.

She whirled around with an uncharacteristic snarl, breathing hard, tears springing to her eyes, her face contorted in rage. "I said _**no**_, Obi-Wan!" Her voice cracked as it rose, and she got the distinct impression that she sounded like a maniac, but she didn't care.

_He doesn't understand...and never could!_

He didn't know what it was like for her to face down a monster, a being who had corrupted, consumed, and ultimately destroyed the one person she had loved, cherished, and held the most dear in the whole entire galaxy. He didn't know what it was like for her to be so close to him again and not be able to embrace him, to stare into his most beloved face and not kiss his enticing lips, to gaze once more into his breathtakingly beautiful eyes and not see the love and passion reflected back that had once so inflamed them...and to know that he, her dearly beloved husband, was _never_ coming back. No. Not in a thousand lifetimes could she ever hope to explain it. He didn't get it. _Couldn't_ get it.

He was too steeped in the Jedi way.

"I'm not talking about this, not now, not ever! Leave me the kriff alone, dammit!"

"_Padme!_" Her mother gasped, shocked at her daughter's outburst, but Padme was beyond caring by this point. She whirled again and forced her way unceremoniously past her mother, through the kitchen, down the hallway, and then turning left to enter the master suite, her bedroom, her private sanctum. This time, Obi-Wan didn't follow. He knew better. It was the one place in the house he _k_new without doubt was off limits and sacrosanct to him. In the depths of her heart, Padme knew Anakin would never have tolerated Obi-Wan's presence in what was their private marital space, and subconsciously, she had honored and respected her husband's unspoken wishes in that regard, informing the Jedi quite clearly when she acquired the house that he was never to set even one toe into her private space.

She slammed the door shut behind her so hard it rattled several holos hanging on the wall, the action releasing some pent-up frustration and enclosing herself in the semi-darkened room. For a moment, she just stood there, shaking and staring around at her bed, her vanity, her dresser, her closet, her small seating area with its desk and comm station. In the welcoming silence that engulfed her, she was alone to think, but suddenly, thinking didn't sound like such a good idea anymore. Slowly, she leaned back against the door and slid to the floor, pulling her legs up tightly to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees, and hugging them, still staring off into space, her thoughts ricocheting round and round in her head until she finally lost it. Leaning her forehead against her knees, she began to sob—deep, heart-wrenching sobs of a grief buried deeper than she'd even realized was possible. Sobs that shook her petite frame almost violently with their intensity. Sobs that bled out a mournful despair so cavernous and yawning she knew the Jedi could feel it hemorrhaging at an incredible rate into the Force. A depth of sorrow and misery that she doubted any amount of time would heal.

She'd known this day was coming.

Oh yes, she'd known. Obi-Wan had told her a million times over that it would. Yoda had, too. They'd warned her to be prepared, had trained her _hard_ to be prepared, and she _thought_ she had been. How mistaken she'd been. Now, she realized, she had only been prepared to face _a mask_, a faceless monster, a killing machine, and _not_ the facsimile, the shadow of the man she'd loved with her whole being. At first, she'd been able to treat their fight as such: Nightblade versus Vader, the assassin versus the Sith, defender of the Rebellion against Palpatine's enforcer, but the moment he'd taken off his mask…her heart, unbidden by conscious thought, had practically soared, and her body unconsciously reacted to the undying pull he would always have for her anytime she came anywhere near him.

Curly dark blonde hair, just a little longer than when she'd last seen it, bounced in the breeze around his neck and forehead, whispering to her fingers, begging to be touched and tousled. Cerulean blue eyes that shone with pain…and molten desire flickered over her face in a visual caress that caused heat to pool in her core. Lips so familiar speaking her name reverently causing her lips to ache for his kiss. His skin had been paler than she remembered it, and his face was thinner, as if he'd lost weight, and there were heavy dark circles under his eyes, the burn scar courtesy of Ventress still present over his right eye, but in essence, he was still physically as she remembered him.

Anakin Skywalker. Former Jedi. Former hero. Former husband. Unknown father...Now just a shell with a new identity—Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith.

But, the moment he'd taken off that mask, he hadn't _seemed_ like Darth Vader. No. He'd seemed like her precious Ani, the same boy who had made and given her the japor snippet (which she still wore) so long ago, the same boy who had saved her planet from invasion, protected her from assassination, and called her an Angel from the moment they met at Watto's shop…

_Angel._

He'd called her that. Even as she was trying to kill him today, he'd called her that, as if _nothing_ wretched, foul, and evil had _ever_ happened between them. She'd never really thought of herself as this glorious Angel that he'd always viewed her to be, and she certainly didn't see herself as an Angel _now_. Maybe an Angel of Death, but no longer a pure, innocent being unscarred and unscathed by war and treachery. Could it be, even now, after everything that had transpired, that he still thought of her as being his beloved Angel? Or, was he just saying that to get into her head, to manipulate her? She knew that if she asked Obi-Wan, he would say it was the latter, but…

There was more to consider.

He hadn't tried to kill her. She knew that with certainty. After all, she was an assassin now...a one woman killing machine, and every move he'd made in that fight in the junkyard had been either defensive or to reveal her identity. It was nothing like the General that had existed for the Republic in the Clone Wars, or the ruthless killer that now existed as Darth Vader. What made her angry was that, even as he'd defended himself, she knew that, as skilled as she was now, he still far surpassed her in power, prowess, strength, cunning, and capability. She smirked malevolently at the irony of it all, thinking that they would have made quite a formidable team in action, her capabilities and skills naturally complementing and supporting his...like hand in glove, the perfect fit, one to the other. If she hadn't known him so well, she might have thought he'd been toying with her.

Her next thought chilled her to the core...If she couldn't even defeat him when he wasn't _trying_ to hurt her, then _how_ in all the nine Corellian hells would she even come _close_ to killing him when he _was_ trying, or worse….take out the Emperor for that matter? But then, she realized, he had left himself open for attack a few times. She had clearly recognized those few openings, thanks in large part to Obi-Wan and Yoda's intensive saber training. Though, if she was truly honest, he probably would have successfully defended himself had she moved against him, but she hadn't taken those moves. Hadn't even tried to. Why? Did she even…want to kill him? The idea disturbed her. She should want to kill him—he'd destroyed everything she'd held dear. He'd murdered so many, including innocent children. He'd destroyed their family, their marriage, their future. He'd destroyed the man she'd loved. And yet…

Memories. Memories of a happier time overcame her, flooding her awareness with nostalgia, and she couldn't help but smile tenderly at each cherished recollection of what had once been. A giving little boy confident that he could win a pod race that was impossible for an adult human, much less a child, to win. A brave little boy who had taken down a blockade around her homeworld of Naboo without any training whatsoever, simply because his instincts told him to do it, and his selfless actions had saved her people. A loyal and charming man tasked with protecting her, a man who had rather clumsily-though intently-pursued her and attempted to get her to fall in love with him—he'd literally done everything_ so_ awkwardly, it might have scared off other women. But, not Padme. Beyond that awkward bravado, she'd seen his good intentions, his desire to make things right and just. She'd seen his _heart, _so open and willing to love and be loved in return. She'd seen how he'd striven to both respect and fulfill her desires, even when they conflicted with his own.

She remembered their first kiss on the very balcony that would later see their nuptials—she remembered their kiss after she _finally_ committed herself to her love for him before their scheduled execution in the arena on Geonosis. She remembered their wedding, held in secret in the Lake Country of Naboo at her estate there, Varykino, where she'd secretly hoped they would someday settle down with their family when the galaxy didn't need them anymore. She remembered their wedding night, the first time for them both, so endearingly shy yet passionately giving themselves to the other. She remembered _all_ those nights when he'd made love to her…Though he had dearly loved to tease her mercilessly, Anakin was a man of few words. Rather, he was a man of action, in all aspects of his life, and his heartfelt ardor and desire for her, and her alone, had never failed to leave her breathless and wanting more. She had _never_ doubted his love for her.

Perhaps being a woman of many words who was never quick to action had been her downfall in their relationship. Every time he'd asked for her to take a vacation to spend time alone with just him in some secret, remote, yet romantically beautiful part of the galaxy, she'd refused and instead had been more focused on her work. She'd felt his frustration, but he'd always respected her will and her unfailingly determination to duty for her people. What a wasted opportunity…One she could never reclaim.

Yes. Hindsight was indeed 20/20. _Painfully so._

Then she'd gotten pregnant shortly before he'd left on an extended mission to the Outer Rim sieges. He'd been gone for five months before he'd returned unexpectedly with Obi-Wan, not knowing what miraculous changes were taking place in their lives in his absence. She had been so excited to tell him. Couldn't wait to in fact, though she had feared for the consequences for them both should the Jedi Council find out. All she could think about at the time, besides her frantic worry for her husband's safe return, was that he would be a good father—a fantastic father, really. When he'd finally returned, and had been so ecstatically happy at the news, she thought everything was going to be okay. In fact, with the end of the Clone Wars in sight, and a baby in her womb, she was finally ready to settle down. She was ready to be a full time mother and a wife. Ready to leave the Senate and the overwhelming needs of the galaxy behind to just focus on them, on their little family. She'd dreamed of a baby boy with blue eyes and blonde hair and a charmingly sweet grin, so like his father's. He'd wanted a baby girl with dark hair and dark doe eyes and a breathtaking smile, so like her mother's.

And then…something _changed_ in her husband. She knew he had dreams of her dying. He told her so one night on the terrace, and yet, after that admission, he stopped opening up to her. He became withdrawn, moody, cantankerous almost. She realized, too late, that he didn't seem to _trust_ her anymore. He pushed her away, likely without even realizing it himself. Then…_that_ night happened. No. She wouldn't go there. She _refused _to think about that night. Living that night's consequences day after day, year after year, was bad enough. He took _everything_ from her that night: Her passion for politics, her home world, her sense of security…And, even though she _knew_ it wasn't _him_ who directly did it, it was still _his_ actions that awful night that ultimately enabled the Emperor to order the attack on Naboo that killed her father, widowed her mother, and scattered Sola and her family to the four winds of the galaxy, leaving her, her children and her mother to live life in hiding, on the run from the clutches of the Sith.

She _should_ have hated him. She certainly had every _right_ to. Some days she told herself that she _did_ hate him. But, this duel proved_ one_ thing to her irrefutably.

Hating him was a lie.

Because, at the same time he had taken _everything_ else away from her, he had also _given_ her a reason for continuing to live. Her Ani, like some last parting gift of love, had given her Luke and Leia. Her precious children, the very symbols of the deep love their parents had shared. They were twin shining lights, her beacon of hope, in her world. They were her everything. Everything she did, everything she fought for, was for _them_. The Ani she knew and loved would have done the exact same thing for them, so…so did she. It was the _one_ thing she still felt she had in common with her husband. It was the one thread that would forever tie them together.

She prayed that thread, invisible and indelibly woven across the stars, would never break.

As if on cue, she heard the distant sound of the front door opening and closing, followed immediately by two children's excited voices…which were promptly shushed, likely by her mother or Obi-Wan, who wanted to avoid them getting in trouble with their mother. Padme, however, would _never_ lash out at them, no matter what they did. Soon, however, there was the distinct patter of tiny feet scurrying down the hallway, followed by a soft knock on her door. "Mama?" Luke's voice drifted through the door.

For just a moment, she thought about pretending she wasn't there. There were still angry tears silently dripping down her face. But, this was her Luke. Her golden boy. She couldn't shut him out, no matter if she was ready to face her children or not. So, resolving to think on all of this more after the twins were in bed, she ended up scooting away from the door just enough to open it so that Luke could squeeze in. He was not alone, however—Leia followed on his heels quietly, which was uncharacteristic for her daughter. Leia was her _loud_ child, and for all that she looked like her mother, her personality was _strongly_ reminiscent of her father's. Padme shut the door softly behind them when they were inside.

Silence seemed to stretch out forever, as mother drank in the sight of her offspring.

For a moment, Luke and Leia just stared back at her. "Why awe you cwying, Mama?" Luke whispered, a little frown creasing his features. Force, she _hated_ it when they frowned.

Hastily, she wiped away her tears. "I'm fine, Luke. It's okay, Sweetie." She attempted a smile to show them that it was fine, but she should have known better. They _were_ Anakin's children after all, and Anakin used to know when she was sad or upset - sometimes even from across the galaxy- despite how well she hid it on the outside.

"No, Mama," Leia said softly, her chestnut curls bouncing around her chin as she shook her head and pointed to her own heart with a tiny finger. "You'we sad. In thewe."

_Oh, Force. _Padme began to cry all over again at that, holding her arms out for her children. Luke and Leia glanced at one another in concern before they stepped into her warm embrace. She pulled them onto her lap and held them close, running her hands through their hair, kissing their foreheads and cheeks. She realized then that, despite everything that had been taken away from her, she'd been given something just as wonderful, something infinitely more precious—her children.

_Ani's children._

So, she held them, holding tight to the last of the Skywalker family, until the tears stopped coming. She averred she _would_ do everything in her power to bring them a better galaxy to grow up in, one way or another, and she would make sure that they didn't fall into the hands of those who would be hell bent on destroying them.

Including Darth Vader.

* * *

The engine screeched its perturbed annoyance and the ship shuddered and shook at being pushed too hard by its pilot, as he yanked back on the throttle. He knew he was coming in too hot on his approach to the fleet. Knew and didn't really give a damn. Still, he was smarter than that and eased up on the throttle and tempered his speed. The very _last_ thing he wanted was to end up dead in his crumpled fighter from a crash landing on his own ship...all because he was stunned, flabbergasted, _in love_...and entirely pissed off about it.

_She was alive!...And, she hated him._

"Captain Piett," Vader snarled through the mask vocalizer at his most trusted officer in his fleet, as he was beginning his approach to bring his TIE fighter into the landing vector for the hangar bay closest to his quarters on his ship, the _Executor_, "If you have _any_ desire **not **to have to clean up the dead bodies of your fellow crew mates en masse on the direct passageway from the hanger to my private quarters, then I advise you to evacuate them from that sector immediately!"

Piett blinked and stared at his commanding officer through the holo on his control panel, and Vader knew what the man was thinking: Vader _never_ called ahead to warn _anyone _that he was in a bad, murderous mood and to get the hell out of his way. He simply unleashed his fury via the Force on the unsuspecting men without thinking twice about it...or having concern for the consequences. After all, cleanup was not the Sith's problem. This could only mean _one_ thing.

Something was up.

"Yes, Lord Vader. It will be done." The line went dead, and Vader turned his full attention to his landing procedure. Or, _most_ of his attention.

_What I see is the _ _ **evil** _ _ man who took over the body of the good man I married!..._

_You are not my husband!_

_You are not my husband!_

_You are _ _ **not** _ _ my husband!_

Those words played over and over again in his mind like a broken holovid, haunting him, shredding his conscience like a vibroblade. Perhaps those words were the reason why he'd called to warn Piett, because deep down he knew that _Anakin Skywalker _would **never **have killed good men under his command just because they were in his way and he was pissed off. As he landed the TIE and ran through the shutdown cycle, he scowled beneath his mask, his fury and anguish rising equally within him to the point where it was about to boil over.

Yes, it was a _very_ good thing that Piett had evacuated the area. He popped the hatch, undid his crash webbing, and Force leaped out of his ship, closing the hatch again with a wave of his hand, his boot heels striking a heavy tread on the deck plating, his black cape billowing out behind him as he strode for the exit. Looking around at the empty hangar, which normally would have held hundreds of men bustling about at work, he grimaced. Oh, yeah. There would have been_ plenty_ of dead bodies left in his wake had he not taken precautions and comm'd Piett... and, pausing for half a stride on his way to the turbolift that would take him directly to the private wing where his quarters were located, he acknowledged, with an unexpected pang of guilt, it would have been yet _another_ reason for his Padme to hate him more than she already did.

Hate.

That word echoed in his mind, too, twirling and whirling around in a storm of her venomous words from their battle, leaving him in a convoluted morass of emotions he had not felt since Mustafar. His own wife _hated_ him, hated him so much that she actually tried to _kill_ him, because even though she had missed a few openings he'd unintentionally given her in his shocked state, he was far too well trained to _not_ recognize when someone was on the offensive...and she had certainly been _that._ Padme had definitely been trying to kill him. Without question, if he hadn't been as brilliant with a lightsaber as he was, in his shocked state in that moment, she'd have run her..._his..._saber straight through his gut without a second thought, because she was pretty damn good with the weapon, he had to admit. Obi-Wan had taught her well. _Too well_. She'd changed..._a lot_...in the two years since Mustafar. Of course, he also wanted to know _why_ Padme had decided to change her well known pacifist's ways for that of a hardened killer. Also, _who_, besides Obi-Wan, had helped to fine tune her new skills? That was _also_ part of this mystery.

Such a quandary.

He shook his head and continued on his way, entering the turbolift and punching in the level of his quarters. Leaning back against the wall, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at the floor. If he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he also found this new _aggressive_ side of Padme to be deliciously alluring and sexy as hell. He felt the stirrings of desire surging through his veins once again. He wanted his wife back. She alone, out of _all_ the women in the galaxy, lit this unquenchable fire in his blood. The turbolift came to a stop, the doors sliding open silently before him, and he stepped out onto his private hallway, making for the door to his quarters, his mind still muddled as he replayed over and over their duel, her words, her eyes, his reaction.

Frustrating

That's what this was, and he didn't like it. Not one bit. Now that the shock was starting to wear off, he felt unbelievable _rage _pour through his system…and sorrow, a deep despondent anguish pulsing within him with every beat of his heart. He wanted to blame Obi-Wan for this…in fact, he _did_ blame him, on some level. After Mustafar, Obi-Wan _certainly_ would have worked hard to turn her against him, and probably convinced her to hide from him as well. And yet…Obi-Wan would _never_ have suggested-_or encouraged_-Padme to try to kill him. It wasn't the Jedi way. No. Obi-Wan wouldn't have turned her into a killer, though he obviously had trained her with a lightsaber..._his_ lightsaber at that!...to keep herself from getting killed.

_Obi-Wan._

Vader clenched his fists. His former Jedi Master should be _dead!_ Instead, he'd escaped Vader's hand, stolen his lightsaber _and his wife_, and left him to die on the molten inferno that was Mustafar. At first, Vader might have jealously and stupidly assumed that Obi-Wan had done it all out of having some sort of _feelings_ for her, but now, he guessed that Obi-Wan turned her against him because, in his own sense of warped nobility and justice, he thought it was the right thing to do. Which infuriated Vader to no end.

Interfering..._always_ interfering.

He entered his semi-darkened apartment suite, shutting down all communications with a flick of his wrist, leaving just the emergency comm on, and immediately began to strip out his boots and his suit, dropping the pieces of his disguise carelessly to the floor with a clatter. He was _tempted_ to throw his helmet across the room, but he didn't have a spare onboard, and in his anger, he knew he'd shatter the blasted thing against the wall. He needed to breathe. He needed to calm down enough to think, to mull over all of the implications from the day's events and come up with a plan, a rock solid plan, because now that he knew that his wife was not only _alive,_ but also was the _Assassin_ that he'd been ordered to kill, he had to not only_ find_ her to keep her safe, but also figure out how to keep _all_ of this from the Emperor.

No small task.

The Emperor. Force, how he _hated_ that man! Now free of his confinement in the suit, Vader scowled as he walked over to his dresser, opened a drawer, grabbed his garments, and pulled on his loose black sleep pants and matching sleep shirt, which he left unbuttoned and hanging open to the waist. Lies. All of it. He'd been told Padme was dead. Sidious, practically _giddy _with euphoria at the idea, had spent countless _hours_ drilling it into his head that Padme's death was _his_ fault. He'd said it over and over as he'd tortured Vader with his stupid Sith Lightning. To be fair, Anakin himself had felt his connection to her snap while still on Mustafar, like she'd died…but his wife wasn't Force sensitive. Force bonds weren't as strong with non-Force sensitives. So, it wouldn't have taken much to sever that contact between them.

But, he'd been to her funeral, had been utterly unable to feel her life force…He knew, because he'd _tried_ to reach out to her in that open casket in Theed and sensed nothing. He wasn't sure _how_ she managed to achieve such a state. That was certainly one mystery he wanted solved in all this mess. He raked his hands through his hair, grasping his blonde curls in his fists and tugging on them as a growl of frustration escaped him as he considered the options. Either way, it _could_ be possible that the Emperor had been fooled, as he had, and had just assumed that it was Vader who had killed her.

_Or_, Sidious knew she wasn't dead, and had purposefully and intentionally lied to him to keep Vader under his control. The Vader from two years ago would have assumed that it was the first option, but now? It could very well be either, though his gut instinct was leaning toward the latter, but he knew Padme would be safer if it were the former. He sighed. Vader wasn't stupid enough to comm the Emperor and _ask _outright for himself. No. Not an option. Vader snorted. Besides, Sidious would just lie to him anyway.

Now dressed in something that wasn't so insufferably constrictive, Vader approached his viewport, resting his hands on the sill, staring out at the stars…somewhere out there, was his Padme. He didn't know where to start looking exactly, having lost her after their battle when she fled with Obi-Wan, but he knew he had to find her. Quickly. He needed to grovel at her feet and beg for her forgiveness, pledge his undying love for her, convince her to come home to him, he needed to…A sudden thought entered his mind and jolted him from his musings.

_Their baby._

Wait. If _she_ was alive then…Vader's eyes widened, all breath whooshing from his lungs, and once more his body felt like it was electrified all over with nervous tension, and he felt the need to put his suit back on and go do _something_…even if he didn't have a plan of action. Yet.

What about their unborn child?

_Why _hadn't he thought about this immediately after their duel? _Kriff! _Padme had been heavily pregnant with their baby when…when Mustafar happened. She'd still _looked_ pregnant when she'd been transported through the streets of Theed in that casket, but _what if_…what if that had been a lie, too? What if somewhere out there, amongst those stars, was not only the love of his life, but his child as well, hidden from him?

Answers.

He needed answers. He needed to _know. _Meditation would be necessary in this situation. He needed to reach out with the Force for the answers he sought, but he was still too keyed up, too wired with the adrenaline rush to even contemplate meditating at the moment. Still, standing by the viewport, watching the stars in the silence of his quarters, _did _give him momentary clarity of thought. He, at least, had an idea of _where_ to start looking. The Outer Rim. Specifically, the sectors the Empire had the least amount of presence in. That _had _to be where she was, where _his family_ would be hiding. It made sense. The Core and the Inner Rim sectors were entirely within the Empire's control and too heavily patrolled for them to risk detection. The Jedi would have sequestered his wife as far away from the Empire as possible, but for them to still be within reach of civilization.

A fierce sense of protectiveness suddenly gripped him, a protectiveness that he didn't quite fully understand. He'd never met his child, nor did he know if his child was even _alive_, and yet…the mere _idea_ of his child being alive was enough to stir something new within him, something he didn't fully comprehend. Sidious had always hated it whenever children were involved with one of Vader's missions, because something _always_ went terribly wrong whenever it did happen, much to Sidious' disgust. If Vader was ordered to kill _all_ survivors, something somehow would remarkably happen that would _allow_ any children to escape. Vader knew that some of his actions had an indirect effect on whether children lived or died, but if he was faced with _directly _killing children himself, he wouldn't do it. He _couldn't _do it, not after that night at the Temple, not after that night when he'd thought he'd killed his beloved wife and unborn child. An instantaneously overwhelming _need_ know the answer to the living status of his child overcame him, and his hands clenched around the view port sill until his knuckles were white.

He needed answers. He needed his wife. He needed his family. He would stop at _nothing_ to find them and bring them home to him. Not even the Emperor would stop him this time. But, he needed help. For all his vaunted skills and his high rank as second-in-command of the Empire, he couldn't do this alone...not without raising the Emperor's suspicions. He needed the services of someone he _knew_ he could not only trust but had the knowledge, the skills, and the contacts necessary for this plan to succeed. Reaching out behind him with one hand, he called his commlink to him without looking at it, knowing it was within reach on his dresser. Smirking, a gleam of delight in his eyes, he dialed the frequency and waited..._Oh yes, my Angel, I __**will**__ find you again and bring you back to me, and we will be a family at last, _he thought, as the comm connected.

"Fett, I have another job for you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is To Build a Home by the Cinematic Orchestra and Ma Fleur. Like I vividly pictured the scene with Padme holding her twins in her darkened room while listening to that song.   
Leave some love!   
Love,  
LadyVader23


	9. Plans

"I _know_ what you're going to say. So, do me a favor...and _don't._ My mind's made up," she said on an exasperated sigh, knowing as soon as she said it he'd ignore her. Picking up her pace, she shook her head and exited the bustling hanger bay and headed through the blast doors leading to the briefing chamber of the Rebellion, the Jedi Master's heavy footfalls hot on her heels. Glancing sideways at her companion, she rolled her eyes. _I knew it. Here it comes._

Kriff, she just hated being right sometimes. Like now.

"You don't have to do this," Obi-Wan said in a rushed whisper, as they made their way deep through the rebel base, ignoring the questioning looks of passersby. Padme was decked out in her full assassin's outfit, striding purposefully towards the briefing room. "I could give the report for you."

"Yes, I know." She responded sullenly, "But this was my battle, my duel, and** I** need to do the report. It's my duty." Frankly, she would have taken Obi-Wan up on his offer normally, but she couldn't stand sitting at home just doing nothing. The Galaxy needed to be saved from the ruthless clutches of the Empire, sooner rather than later, and now, as if matters couldn't get any worse,her estranged husband knew she was alive, and she had absolutely no doubts that he was hunting for her across the galaxy. A tiny thrill at the thought raced through her, unbidden, bringing memories to mind she'd rather forget, and she scowled under her mask, resolutely forcing such thoughts and feelings from her mind.

_I can't go there!_

She felt like a sitting declawed Loth-kitten: Helpless, and not doing much of anything to improve the situation. In the weeks since her saber duel with Darth Vader on Daluuj, she had trained further with Yoda, hard and intense training on saber techniques, including Vaapad, but even Yoda had sensed her unease during training.

"Uneasy, you are. Reckless, you have become." He'd chided her patiently after Obi-Wan had disarmed her for like the thousandth time. "Face your fears, you must. Confront Vader again, you will."

Well, facing her fears included facing Darth Vader again, yes, on ending the conflict that had arisen between them. And, truth be told, she wasn't ready to do that just yet….but she could take care of some other pesky Imperials in the meantime. So, here she was, ready to report, and ready to demand another assignment. Sitting still just did not sit well with her. She needed to _do_ something.

"But, you haven't even talked to me about what happened, or Yoda, or your mother, Pa-..uh, Night Blade. Now, you're expecting to get up in front of the _entire_ Rebellion and explain the situation?" Obi-Wan sounded incredulous, but it was a half-hearted attempt. He knew as well as she did that once her mind was made up, there was no turning back. _Tenacious to a fault_, he thought wryly with a shake of his head, his look clearly saying it all.

Catching his eye, she smirked. She had to agree with him. Couldn't refute him, in fact. It was the same reason why deciding on Geonosis to give in to her love for Anakin had been such a big deal: She had known that once she did, once she was committed to their relationship, she would give her love to him totally and completely, forever. And, so she had. There had been no real courtship period as a result, no dating per se, just devout declarations of love, and a hastily arranged secret marriage. Perhaps she should have waited then—perhaps she should wait now. But, she didn't regret loving and marrying Anakin, and never would. So, she doubted she would regret this decision either.

Well. Maybe. Probably.

"I am a former pacifist Senator turned lethal cold-blooded Assassin, Master Jedi. I don't have the luxury of waiting around and talking about my feelings. Not to you or anyone else. There is work to be done." Her voice was both firm and perturbed (at having to have this exact same discussion with him again), and yet quiet as well to keep those who passed them by in the passage from overhearing and guessing her true identity. "I most certainly don't have the privilege of having someone else do my dirty work for me."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Obi-Wan returned, starting to sound agitated, "You are human just like the rest of us and…"

She ignored him with a shake of her head, as they approached the sealed door to the briefing room and she reached out and entered the security code on the keypad on the panel next to the doorframe, waiting as the door quickly _whooshed _open before them, cutting him off as everyone in the room stopped chattering and turned to look at them. To her utter surprise, Mon Mothma and Bail were not the only ones in the room—Captain Rex, Commander Cody, and many other prominent members of the Rebellion were also present. Immediately, Padme tensed, her mind kicking into Senator-mode, assessing the situation, it's possible meaning and lasting impact. She had expected Bail and Mon Mothma to be there, but not _this_ many people. She narrowed her eyes, assimilating the possibilities in her mind. There was certainly no turning back now. She strode confidently to the edge of the illuminated round table the attendees were sitting around, and though they could see nothing but her eyes, she held her head high and defiant, like a queen. Like a senator. Glancing quickly at the rows of bench seating rising along the walls all around her, she took note of the many sentients gathered, all eyes on her as she approached.

"Welcome Night Blade," Mon Mothma said regally with a nod of her head. The woman was literally the most poised and outwardly calm woman Padme had _ever_ met. She was certainly more calm than anyone else would have been had they been trying to juggle leading a secret Rebellion and being a complacent puppet in the sham of a Senate that Palpatine had set up. "We are pleased that you and Master Kenobi could join us." Mothma glanced at Obi-Wan and nodded to him as well. He acknowledged her greeting with a silent nod of his own and simply stood next to Padme and crossed his arms inside his sleeves, the perfect picture of the stoic Jedi.

"Thanks for the invitation, Senator Mothma," Padme murmured the pleasantry without any real force behind it. Her days of being polite were over, but she did respect most of the people in that room…even if only two of them knew who she really was. "Did I interrupt something?" Padme glanced around and quirked her eyebrow questioningly.

"No," Mon Mothma replied smoothly, "In fact, your timing could not be more perfect. We were waiting for you, actually."

"For me?" Behind her mask, Padme frowned. "My report isn't _that _imperative, surely, nor is it that…."

"It isn't about the report." Bail interrupted uncharacteristically. "This is about a mission of _far _greater importance than the last one." And, from the serious expression on her friend's face, Padme could tell that whatever it was, it was _big._ And dangerous.

Exactly what she wanted.

Her entire body instantly buzzed with anticipation, as she leaned forward, bracing her gloved hands on the edge of the table. "What is it?" She breathed, trying not to sound too excited, too eager. If it was a dangerous mission, it was likely that other Rebels accompanying her would die.

It didn't fool her friend one bit. She saw the genuine concern flash in his eyes, but he'd obviously already committed everyone else in the room to the idea that she would be joining them on the mission, so he heaved a sigh and reluctantly continued. "We have received some intel about the location of a possible Jedi survivor. A Master, in fact—Luminara Unduli."

Padme stared at him in shock, frozen. She didn't need the Force to feel tension coming from Obi-Wan. It was practically radiating off of him in waves. She knew Luminara of course. Not as well as she knew some of the other Jedi, but she knew her. Anakin and Ahsoka had spoken of her quite often during the Clone Wars. Obi-Wan, however, would have known her quite well, would have trained and served by her side. Tohim,news of her survival would mean so much more: It would mean the survival of a dear friend, and proof that he, Yoda, and her twins really weren't the only surviving Jedi out there. "Where is she?" Obi-Wan demanded, his voice slipping into what Padme liked to call his "General" voice.

Bail and Mon Mothma glanced at each other, and based on the unease in their expression, Padme had a bad feeling about where this was going. "She's being held prisoner by the Empire," Bail said finally. "Specifically, she's being held in the Spire on Stygeon Prime."

_Sith Spit!_

Padme knew that prison all _too_ well. The planet in question was a mountainous, nearly desolate, snowy orb in the Nuiri sector of the Outer Rim. It had a long history as being a favorite prison facility of the Sith. It was notorious for being impenetrable.

Padme paused to consider the implications. She was confident in her skills, of course, but _part_ of those skills was to determine when a mission was suicide. She grimaced. _This_ was a suicide mission, plain and simple. In normal circumstances, she would have flat out refused. After all, she had two-year-old twins waiting for her at home. But, one look at the longing in Obi-Wan's face and she knew that she couldn't say no. This wasn't just a simple suicidal rescue mission. If the intel was true, and Luminara actually _could_ be rescued….having another Jedi Master on the side of the Rebellion could help turn the tables in their favor while starting to rebuild the Order. This was _way_ too important to the Rebellion, and her friend, who had basically given up his life to watch over and protect her and her children. She owed it to him to help him when he needed it. Fair was fair. "So. Break into one of the most...if not _the most_...notorious and impenetrable prison facilities in the galaxy. Got it. Any ideas on how we _do _that?" She asked in a wry tone.

Bail moved to a control panel on the side of the table, pressing a few buttons, and immediately a large hologram of the Spire complex appeared, hovering above the table. Pressing a couple of more buttons, the image rotated and zoomed in on a feature on the cliff face on the back side of the mountain housing the prison. Glancing at Padme and Obi-Wan, Bail waved to the area in question and continued speaking.

"Breaking _in_ isn't the problem. It's getting _out_ that's hard," Bail commented dryly. "There is a door set into the cliff face - here-," he leaned forward and pointed, "That isn't as well guarded because it isn't easily accessible, even with a ship. So, even with the guards that are there, it wouldn't be difficult for an assassin and a Jedi working together to overwhelm them and get into the facility. But once you're in, you'll have to take care to make sure that there is an escape route open to you so that you aren't trapped and get captured yourselves."

"And, that's where _we_ come in," Captain Rex spoke up, sounding grim but confident. Just like any good captain would sound, even if they knew it was a suicide mission. "Our job is to make sure the escape route stays open, but, I must warn you, we can only hold it for a certain amount of time." Rex glanced at Cody, who also nodded before giving a pointed look at Obi-Wan and Padme.

"So, in other words, work fast." Obi-Wan said dryly and nodded. "If you hold, we can do that." He tilted his head at Padme, including her in the '_we_' of his statement.

"So, you're accepting this mission then?" Mon Mothma clarified, her gaze flicking between Padme and Obi-Wan. "Keep in mind, you may not come back out of this one. And, you may find out once you're in there that it really was just a rumor and not actual fact."

The look that Obi-Wan gave her was leveled and cool. It was a look that would have made _any_ Jedi Padawan squirm. But Mothma was unfazed by it and just kept a cool, impassive exterior, meeting his gaze with one of her own. Padme couldn't help being amused at the exchange. She was _certain_ that Obi-Wan had given this exact same look to Anakin on numerous occasions over the years. "If there is _any_ hope of rescuing someone of importance like Master Unduli, we _must_ take the risk. We will not fail. You have my word." Obi-Wan dipped his head in acknowledgement of their acceptance of this mission.

Padme certainly _hoped_ that he was right, that this was some Jedi-intuition thing instead of simply Obi-Wan's stubborn _hope_ that his old friend was still alive. She didn't voice those concerns aloud, though. Instead, she also nodded.

"So, let's get after it. When do we start?"

* * *

"_How _is it possible, Lord Vader, that a simple assassin escaped _you?_" The Emperor seethed out in a hiss through his yellow rotted teeth. Vader tensed, waiting on his knees, steeling himself for the inevitable blast of pain that was _sure_ to follow such a statement. He had delivered his report—a very carefully _edited_ report, to be sure. He made certain that when he delivered it, he did so as detached and seemingly emotionless as possible, his thoughts and feelings firmly shielded against Sidious. He didn't even mention his duel with the assassin, only that she had help in escaping the planet before he could catch her.

"The assassin had help from a Jedi, my Master. They escaped on a ship before we could cut them off. It will not happen again." No. It sure wouldn't happen again. He'd make damn sure of that. Next time, he would stop Padme from fleeing, and he'd…he'd…well, he'd make her listen to him. Frankly, it was a weak plan...and a long shot, he knew. Padme had always been headstrong. It was part of what had attracted him to her in the first place...and the reason why they'd worked so well together...on missions and in their marriage—when they did something, they did it wholeheartedly...and together. If they were ever at odds with one another, though…well, it didn't work out quite so well. Fortunately, that had been a rare occurrence in their years together. Like Mustafar. _No, don't think about that! _he thought immediately. Still, he _had_ to find her, before the Emperor did. He had no doubt that Sidious was not the friend he had made himself seem at the beginning. If Padme was alive, and Sidious found out…

Vader didn't want to think about it.

He could feel Sidious reaching out through the Force, closing the distance between them, trying to search Vader's mind. _Oh no, you don't, my Master. You are NOT going there. _Vader made sure the shielding around what had really transpired on Daluuj, and his own personal feelings about it, were thick and impenetrable. He showed Sidious exactly what he wanted to see—that the assassin truly had escaped aboard a ship (making sure that the vision he shared was of a _masked _assassin), and that he was still intent on looking for her. He could feel Sidious' satisfaction as he pulled away from Vader's Force presence. "You are a most competent apprentice, Lord Vader, but you still have much to learn."

Vader gritted his teeth in annoyance. "Yes, my Master." The words tasted sour in his mouth.

For a moment, the Emperor merely silently regarded Vader. Then said malevolently, enunciating each word clearly and succinctly, "Find that assassin, Lord Vader. Put an end to this Rebellion."

"Yes, my Master." Vader forced out again. When he looked up, the transmission had already cut off. He was alone.

Thank the Force.

At least, Sidious hadn't blasted him with Sith lightning this time, he was relieved to note. Slowly, he stood up with a groan, his knees creaking from the combined weight of the infernal suit and from kneeling in the same position for so long. Oh, how he longed to be rid of the suit, to wear normal clothing again. His ever-so-brief taste of real air and sunlight on Daluuj had only increased his yearning to be free of the confines of his disguise, but unfortunately, he reminded himself with a grimace, he had another important meeting to go to at that moment. Offhandedly, he wondered, with some amusement, what would happen if he got rid of the suit and just used a deep cloak to hide his face like Sidious did…but if his Master ever found out about it, he would be livid. Nope. Not a good idea, tempting though it may be. So, Vader didn't entertain the thought any longer. He didn't want to give the Emperor any reason to pay more attention to what exactly he was doing than was absolutely necessary.

Especially about _this._

He left his quarters, striding purposefully through his ship. Troopers and officers moved out of his way as he went, casting nervous, sideways glances at him. He could feel their fear in the Force, but he chose to ignore it. In the old days, as General Anakin Skywalker, his men would have looked at him with only respect, perhaps a bit of awe. These days, however, there was only abject fear, so much fear. Usually, he didn't care, but now…He had to admit it...bothered him like it never had before. Almost of its own volition, his mind wandered back to Captain Rex, Commander Cody, and to Ahsoka, to the men who had served under him in the 501st. Good, loyal men, who served him loyally because they believed in him, of what he was trying to accomplish for the Republic and the Galaxy, and because he had been a fair and equitable leader who'd treated them kindly and with respect.

These days, however, most of the crew he had who were loyal to him were only loyal to him because they thought that he was more powerful than the Emperor. There was talk in the Galaxy that the real person controlling the Galaxy was Vader. It was Vader, after all, who made sure that the Empire's rules were enforced in every Imperial controlled sector. At one time, Vader might have agreed with them, but now…Now, he knew that Sidious wasn't just some frail, infirm, benevolent Emperor who sat around making up cruel rules for the Galaxy. _Oh noooo. _Paranoid bastard that he was, Sidious controlled _everyone_ and _everything_ without ever having to leave Coruscant.

Including Vader. And, that chafed.

The thought almost made him stop walking. Most of the time, he pretended that he was free. He pretended that he was free to do what he wished, when he wished, and yeah, maybe it was true...to a point. But, the moment Sidious ordered him to do something, no matter what it was, he had to stop whatever it was he was doing to run off and do his Master's bidding. If he disobeyed, or moved too slowly for Sidious' liking, well….Vader shuddered. He'd felt that punishment often enough to know that it wasn't a pleasant experience. Far, far from it. So, in essence, no, he wasn't free. Not really. He was controlled…and this time, there would be no benevolent savior to free him. Like Qui-Gon.

The thought was a sobering one.

Finally, he reached his private office, the blast doors hissing open to reveal two men waiting for him in the room, neither of them sitting due to the fact that he didn't have comfortable chairs for anyone else to sit in, other than the one that was for himself behind the imposing metal desk.

"Boba Fett." Vader rumbled in greeting. "Captain Piett."

Boba Fett, not being a soldier, merely inclined his head briefly, while Piett stood smartly at attention with a quick salute and, "Lord Vader, Sir." Vader didn't say a word, as he moved to sit down behind his desk. Once he was settled in his chair, he regarded carefully the two men standing before his desk staring at him, waiting for him to explain why he had called the two of them here, together. They were two totally different men: A ruthless bounty hunter, who had no problem or qualms with resorting to any underhanded dirty tactic to get the job done, and an officer of the Empire, who was trained to stand against most of the things that Fett represented. Lawlessness and lawfulness. Amused, Vader couldn't help but recognize the dichotomy of the situation involving these two. They did not mix well together, much like oil and water, and yet, for his purposes, they were exactly what Vader needed. "Gentlemen, I have called you two here because, despite reason telling me not to, I happen to trust the both of you."

He sensed surprise from both of the men. Piett was doing a good job of keeping it off of his face, but the mask he wore kept Fett from having to hide it. "Thank you, Lord Vader." Piett finally ventured, his words stiff and carefully chosen.

Vader waved the thanks away. He didn't want or need them. "It's a fact that you should be aware of, because if either of you should ever _betray_ that trust, _**I **_will make sure that you _know _just how big a mistake that is, as you die a slow and _very_ painful death." Piett gulped, speechless, while Fett didn't seem surprised at all by that follow up threat.

"What I am about to tell you will _**not **_\- under _any_ circumstances - leave this room. Is that clear?" There was real menace in his voice. He was taking a risk, yes…but he _couldn't _do this alone. He usually was fine being alone, and yet…this time, on this endeavor, he needed help. And, he was going to make sure his 'help' knew exactly what the stakes were...for them each personally.

"Yes, Lord Vader." Both of them said at the same time with a quick nod of their heads, and despite their obvious apprehension, he could feel their curiosity. The Sith Lord never revealed anything that could give even a smidgen of a glimpse into who he really was behind the mask. Any revelations would be a closely-guarded secret that could, and would, get them killed, if anyone found out what they knew. Sidious would be sure of that.

Vader took a deep breath and launched into his dilemma...and plan. "Gentlemen, I know the identity of the assassin we have been hunting. She's my wife." Shock. Overwhelming shock bloomed in the Force. The bounty hunter and the officer exchanged a quick look.

_A...a wife? Lord Vader is married?! _Piett thought in astoundment.

_A wife, eh? Funny. Didn't think Metal Man had it in him, _was Fett's amused unspoken heard their thoughts clearly, and it took _a_ll of his strength not to rip out his lightsaber and cut them both down there and then. Of course, he figured this would be their reaction. Frankly, had he been in their shoes as Anakin Skywalker, he probably would have reacted the same way, but he thought of his Angel and what their thoughts inferred about her, about their marriage,and he didn't appreciate it one bit. No one denigrated his wife or his marriage that way. No one. Mercifully, neither said anything aloud. They kept their mouths shut and simply waited for him to continue. "I thought she'd died a couple of years ago. I was certain she had, in fact, but it turns out, she's been alive all this time and training in secret to become an assassin for the Rebellion. I need to find her quickly and stop her before she attempts to bring down the Empire."

He almost breathed a sigh of relief. He'd sounded cool, indifferent, even though inside he was still a mess of raging, roiling, conflicting emotions. The whole situation still felt unreal, like a bad late-night Holodrama rather than his real life. When Fett spoke, Vader could tell that he was measuring each word with extreme care. "Surely, one lone assassin - no matter _how good_ \- couldn't bring down the entire Empire?"

Vader wished he didn't have his mask on so that he could give Fett a skeptical look. His tone dry, all he said was,"You don't know my wife." He sighed, wishing to run his fingers through his hair, but the helmet currently prevented him from doing so. Perhaps it was a good thing that he was wearing this helmet: He was sure he looked insanely stressed out, because that's _exactly_ how he was. "Fett, _you _will assist me in tracking her down and capturing her alive and _unharmed_, and Piett, _you_ will make sure that _when_ she is captured, that _no information_ leaks to the Emperor of her existence. Absolutely _none._"

Wisely, neither man asked why he needed to keep it a secret from Sidious. "How can we be of help, Lord Vader?" Piet asked, none of his worry and shock showing in his expression, though Vader sensed it just the same.

Good. Down to business.

"Piett, effective immediately, I am promoting you to Commander of this ship. The last Commander met with an..._unfortunate accident_...this morning while in the hangar bay."

From the sudden tension in Piett's shoulders, Vader knew he'd gotten the message: The last Commander had been eliminated specifically so that Vader could promote the young officer. "You _will_ do an investigation of_ all_ personnel aboard this ship. Every last one of them. If their loyalties are primarily to the Emperor, you will dismiss them from my service, immediately and quietly arrange to disperse them throughout the Imperial fleet. If any of them refuse to go, I will deal with them myself. _Personally._ I want crew loyal primarily - and _only_ \- to _**me**_ aboard this ship. Understood, Commander?"

"Yes, Lord Vader. It will be done." Piett bowed slightly, not complaining about the monumental and daunting task Vader had just given was a Super Star Destroyer with a massive crew numbering in the thousands, after all. Still, he knew better than to complain. He'd seen one too many necks snapped in his time serving under Vader for those who did, and he didn't harbor a death wish. No, he'd do his job and do it quickly and efficiently, as was his hallmark of service.

"Fett." Vader turned to the other man. "You are going to help me capture her. But, there is to be _no_ disintegrations. Not even one hair on her head is to be harmed in this endeavor. Do I make myself clear on that?"

The bounty hunter nodded, "Yes, Lord Vader. No harm will befall her."

"Good. Because otherwise, Fett, I will be highly..._displeased." _Vader knew his implied threat would be enough of a deterrent to prevent the bounty hunter from taking matters into his own hands. Padme's safety was Vader's paramount concern, and he didn't want her to get hurt.

"So, what's the plan?" Fett asked, still straight to business. Vader smiled grimly behind the mask. In some ways, Fett reminded him of Captain Rex…not in the sense of always doing what he considered the right thing, or even in his methods. He reminded him of Rex in the sense that both men were willing to do whatever it took to get a job done, with single-minded purpose. Vader doubted the two men would have gotten along, however.

"I have had my spies spread rumors about a captured Jedi Master being incarcerated at the Spire. I've used the rumor before to lure in rogue Jedi, and I hope to do so again by attracting the attention of the rogue Jedi who has been at my wife's side during her previous _escapades_ against Imperial targets. The captured Jedi Master is, of course, already dead. But, she continues to be of use to us." Actually, that hadn't been his idea. It had been Sidious'. _He'd_ wanted to get rid of the body and go about his business hunting down the remaining Jedi the old-fashioned way. Sidious had not agreed, however, and it worked, so he couldn't really complain.

"How do you know this rogue Jedi will take the bait?" Fett asked skeptically.

A logical question. "Let's just say that I know for a _fact_ that he will take the bait," Vader said sourly, his words ending any further enquiry.

If Fett wanted to know more about why Vader was so sure, he didn't press the issue after _that_ particular comment. Instead, Fett asked, "Lord Vader, why trust me with this information? I'm a bounty hunter. Most people don't trust me just by nature of my profession."

It was a fair question. Honestly, Fett's intelligence rivaled the rest of his skills. Vader was impressed. "Other than the fact that you _know_ full well that I'd hunt you down mercilessly anywhere you went in this Galaxy should you betray me?" There was a silence."I am trusting you with this information, Fett, because I _know_ you'll not only get the job done, but you'll do it _exactly _as I tell you andto the contractual agreement. Your sense of honor would prevent you from betraying me to even the Emperor." A pause. "And, because I will _kill _you myself if you don't."

Fett inclined his head slightly. "Fair enough. When do we leave?"

"Two hours." Vader replied immediately. "I will be taking my own shuttle, so Piett, you have command of the _Executor_ until I return. You are both dismissed."

"Yes, Lord Vader," both men bowed and turned and left his office.

Alone at last, Vader locked his office door, removed his helmet and set it on his desk, and rubbed his gloved hands through his blonde curls agitatedly, before leaning back with a sigh into his chair. Tapping his fingers of his right hand absently on his desk, he contemplated all that he was about to undertake and do to find his wife and bring her home to him. Smiling at the irony of the thought that this was the _second time_ he would have to be the determined suitor chasing after a resistant Padme, he continued to mull over his plan, looking for any flaws, any possible way it could wrong. Finding plenty, he was nevertheless determined to succeed, and succeed, he _would._

Padme's days of hiding and being on the run from him were numbered.


	10. Chapter 10

The Spire truly was as menacing as the stories had made it out to be. Cold and inflexible, it was a massive fortress set into a mountainside overlooking a landscape of jagged barren rock formations as far as the eye could see, each one rising like a death spike for anyone who dared to attempt an escape...and then slipped to their doom. The prison was literally hewn from the very mountain itself. Three distinct towers jutted up into the inky blackness of the night sky, a soft, eerie glow illuminating the few barred windows that the prison did have, all belonging to the Imperials' sector offices, no doubt. Padme didn't let the prison's stark striking appearance bother her in the slightest. She told herself that she had faced worse odds and escaped.

She wasn't exactly sure how true that was, but she hoped, by the Force, she wasn't about to find out otherwise.

What unnerved her, however, was how easily they came in. Even with cloaking shields, she felt as if the skies around the towers should have been more guarded than what they'd encountered. The people in this prison were all highly prized by the Empire. No way was Sidious about to let anyone escape from here. Of course, if she were to let them all escape, it would certainly be a major blow to the Empire. She smirked. That idea appealed to her a lot. Still, there were also people inside these walls, she knew, who were legitimately very bad creatures, who should never leave that prison. But, it would take too long to figure out who was who and decide who should be released, and who shouldn't, and besides, she didn't feel comfortable playing a god. Not to mention the fact her mission was to help Obi-Wan find and extract Master Unduli. She didn't have the time or luxury to deviate from that mission.

No matter how much she might be tempted to.

That's what she told herself, however, as she stealthily followed Obi-Wan down uncomfortably empty, sterile hallways. _Kriff, this is too damn easy!_ It had been almost totally unchallenging to get inside the complex. Too easy for Rex and his men to hold the door. Though she could hear muted screams in the distance reverberating through the facility, the hallways and cells they passed were empty and silent, like metal tombs. "Something isn't right here." Padme hissed, her soft voice echoing off the walls. And, was it just her, or were some of these cell doors coated with some type of weird fluorescent dust?

"I know." Obi-Wan's voice was on edge when they stopped to peer around the next corner to check for guards. Like all the other hallways they had traveled, it, too, was empty. No Stormtroopers on guard. No foot patrols. He held up a hand then closed his fist, signaling to be quiet and stop, just as Padme opened her mouth. "And, for the record, yes, I know it's a trap. I've been on enough rescue missions to know when I'm walking into a trap but…" He broke off, a frown creasing his lips, worry flooding his eyes.

"I know, I know. If there's a chance to rescue Luminara," Padme whispered, "You need to take it." She understood. Obi-Wan may not have had a traditional family like she'd had, but the Order had been his family from infancy. It had been his sole way of life. It was all he'd ever known. Now, with most of them gone thanks to the Empire's purges, he had to feel lonely. Given that it was his former padawan who had destroyed that Order in the first place, it had to be worse for Obi-Wan. She could at least feel for him in that sense, as that very same padawan is the one who had betrayed and destroyed her family as well.

So, she followed him, senses alert, one hand tightened on the hilt of her lightsaber, the other on her blaster on her thigh, her heart thudding almost painfully in her chest. Every instinct was _s_creaming at her to run and get the hell outta there. She fought her instincts to run, though. Instead, she decided to somehow take control of the situation, to turn the tables on their hunters. And, yes, they were being hunted. Of that, she had no doubt. Still, she couldn't just leave Obi-Wan here, not when he'd followed after her against his better judgement on multiple occasions. He'd had her back. It was her turn to have his. "We're almost there," He whispered as they turned another corner, and he paused so suddenly she almost smacked into his back.

"She's in there."

There was only one hallway before them. A dead end. _How apropos,_ she thought wryly. The single cell lay at the far end, alone….and once again, unguarded. _How convenient. _If they headed into that hallway and were attacked from behind, they would be trapped. It was so blatantly obvious, the idea of walking into it made her skin crawl. She wanted to insist that they turn around and leave - _now -_ while Rex and his men were still holding the blast doors open for them, but she didn't. Instead, it was Obi-Wan who glanced at her over his shoulder. "Stay here, and watch for the attack."

"Stay? Did you say _stay?_" She echoed with a frown, but she was already positioning herself to guard the hallway. "You can't just waltz in there by yourself, y'know. That's suicide, Obi-Wan."

"It's already a dead end, Nightblade. And, frankly," Obi-Wan replied dryly with another glance over his shoulder at her, "It won't matter if you're with me or not." Silently cursing, she didn't argue. She knew he was right—even with all the skills she'd honed to near perfection, Obi-Wan was still a formidable Force user and a very proficient and highly trained Jedi Master. Her assistance might help him somewhat, but if the circumstances were really that dire, they would only prolong the inevitable by minutes. And, they both knew it.

"May the Force be with you." She said instead, igniting her lightsaber and turning around to watch the hallway. "Hurry up, would ya. This place gives me the creeps."

"You have no idea," Obi-Wan muttered, and she listened to him hurry forward down the hallway. Every muscle in her body was taut, ready to spring into action—she wanted to watch him, to make sure that he got Master Unduli out, but she also wasn't about to let anyone sneak up on them either. So, she waited, listening intently to the faint _snap-hiss _as Obi-Wan ignited his own lightsaber and jammed it into something—the locking mechanism, perhaps.

The comm in her ear pinged suddenly, and she swiftly answered it, "I read you, Exit Pass. Go ahead."

"Nightblade," Rex's voice was low and rough. "Do you have the package yet?"

"Negative." Padme responded, keeping her voice low as well, despite the fact that there literally was no one else but Obi-Wan to hear her. "We almost have it though."

"Hurry," Rex said, and Padme heard the sound of blast doors swishing open behind her, "It won't be long before—_Ah_, _shit!_" Suddenly, the sound of blaster fire erupted into her ear, before it cut off just as quickly. Along with their communications, apparently.

_Kriff!_

"Exit Pass? Do you copy, over?" Padme hissed, anxiety coiling rapidly in her gut, "Rex?! Do you read me?!" There was no reply. _Dammit to the nine Corellian hells! _Cursing in Huttese, she whirled towards the now open cell door. There was no Obi-Wan. "Master Jedi!" She yelled, refraining from using Obi-Wan's name. "We're about to have compa…"

The cell door suddenly slammed shut.

* * *

It was almost too easy. Honestly, Boba Fett didn't know why Vader was so worried about this plan failing. As far as Fett was concerned, anyone who broke into a maximum security prison and met no resistance was either stupid, insane, or way too cocky for their own good. Given that his prey was the wife of Darth Vader, he had no doubt that she was cocky, rather than stupid. He couldn't see the Dark Lord falling for any female who wasn't at least his equal in cunning—although, frankly, he still couldn't imagine the Dark Lord falling for any woman at all - let alone marrying one. He shuddered. A Sith Lord seducing a woman? No. That was one image he definitely didn't want in his head.

As much as Lord Vader had wanted to be in the prison himself, waiting for his wife, he hadn't done so. He'd said, if Fett recalled correctly, that the Jedi with her would sense his Force presence immediately and would have abandoned the mission. Still, even without the Dark Lord physically there, he could practically feel him hovering over his shoulder, his blank, black stare zeroing in on his back. And, he felt that invisible bullseye growing bigger by the second. He suppressed a shiver, and watched the Holofeed as the two hooded figures made their way through the silent empty hallways, the tall one in a dark brown Jedi robe, and the other smaller one in figure-hugging black leather that covered her from head to toe, a mask securely in place over the lower half of her face.

Fett had to admit, her body was certainly enticing, the clinging material of the suit she was wearing leaving little to his imagination. Feeling the first faint embers of desire starting to stir within himself at her image, he quickly clamped down on those feelings. _Focus, Fett. You can't get the hots for Vader's wife. If he senses it, you're dead meat._

Shaking his head to clear it, his gaze narrowed through his own helmet lens on the woman in the Holofeed. What _would_ the woman who had entranced the Dark Lord look like? He wouldn't find out, he knew—at least not yet. Darth Vader was _very_ specific about keeping her identity secret. Maybe someday he would see the face of the woman who held the heart - or, whatever passed for a heart - of the most dangerous man in the Galaxy.

He watched closely as the rebel pair finally approached the hallway containing the bait. Watching them debate (which told him they obviously knew this was a trap), he depressed the comm in the cuff of his arm bracer. "They've just entered the trap. Waiting to spring it."

"_Good. Proceed as planned. Be mindful of any...surprises, Fett._ _They are both masters of improvisation in difficult situations_, " Vader's voice boomed over the comm. He wasn't about to question the Sith. Fett was sure he knew what he was talking about. Flicking his comm off, he didn't bother acknowledging Vader's comments and simply crossed his arms and continued to watch the events unfold on the floor directly above him. The Jedi paused, said something to Vader's woman, then proceeded forward quickly toward the dead Jedi's cell. She didn't move forward. She stayed back. Obviously to guard his flank.

The Jedi, as Vader had predicted, melted through the door's control panel with his lightsaber. Watching as the cell door flew open and the Jedi advanced into the room, Fett leaned forward and pressed a button on the panel in the main control room for this sector of the prison. On the Holoscreen, he watched impassively as the cell door slammed shut, and she whirled round. Smirking, he observed the scene as she glanced back behind her where Stormtroopers were now suddenly advancing on her, blocking her exit. She moved from her flanking position and back stepped toward the hallway her companion had just disappeared from. Keeping her blue lightsaber in front of her, she kept her eyes trained on the advancing troopers, and Fett, muttered, "Come on...just a few more steps...That's it...Just a _little_ more…"

She stepped back twice more, now only a few feet from the dead Jedi's cell door, and Fett grinned under his helmet. He pressed a different button on the console before him, and suddenly, a hidden floor panel opened up beneath her, and she appeared to let out a surprised yell before she plunged out of sight, the panel slamming shut as she disappeared from view.

"Gotcha, Lady Vader."

* * *

Before she could finish yelling at Obi-Wan, the cell door slammed shut. Whirling, she heard the sound of marching feet quickly advancing on her position. _Kriffing hells! Stormtroopers! I knew this was a trap, dammit! _She glanced back the way they'd come and found a guard patrol quickly advancing on her position. Padme considered her options and realized she didn't have many. Great...just great. She slowly backed up toward Unduli's cell door, keeping her lightsaber in front of her, her eyes trained on the advancing squadron of troopers as they rounded the corner and came into view. She was cornered, and she knew it, but with any luck, if she could reach the cell door, she could hopefully get inside and then she and Obi-Wan could hopefully figure a way out of this friggin' mess.

Unfortunately, her luck ran out.

It was as she backed up another two steps that, without warning, the floor literally opened up beneath her and sent her plunging down a pitch black open shaft. She gasped and let out a surprised yelp as she felt the floor slid out from underneath her. Thank the Force that, in that split second of momentary suspension before she plummeted, she had the good sense to snap off her lightsaber, thus avoiding severing any of her body parts as she fell. Feeling the rush of air around her as she dropped feet first down the shaft, her descent came to an abrupt halt when another trap door slid open below her, illuminating the blackened shaft with an infusion of light from below. Dropping through the opening, she landed in a heap on the floor of...yet another hallway, one just like she'd been in outside Unduli's cell.

"Uhh," she grunted as she stood up and surveyed her new surroundings. She thankfully didn't appear to be injured, despite the sharp landing on her feet. So, either that floor panel was pressure plated (unlikely, since Obi-Wan had stepped on it before her), or they were being watched and someone had deliberately opened that floor panel (likeliest scenario, since here she stood). _Vader. _It had to be him! Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Vader was here...somewhere...she was _sure_ of it. How he could be here without Obi-Wan having sensed it was beyond her...but couple her fall through the floor with the apparent ease of their arrival (even with cloaking shields), their unhindered advance into the inner depths of the Spire down nothing but unguarded hallways, the subsequent manner in which she and Obi-Wan had now been separated, led her to conclude that this entire mission had been nothing but a setup from the get-go...aimed at one specific target.

_Her._

She should've known. Now that he knew she was alive, Vader was after _her._ Unduli and _Obi-Wan_ were the bait. The Rebellion didn't say how they came into this intel on Unduli, but obviously, whatever their source, it was sham intel, fed to them by Vader himself. And, they'd all fallen for it, dammit! Padme suddenly doubted Unduli was even here to begin with. It was all an elaborate trap laid specifically for her. Bagging Obi-Wan and Rex and his team were just added bonuses. No, Vader wanted her back and was apparently determined to succeed, but her estranged husband was in for a rather rude awakening, because she had absolutely _no_ intention of being his wife again...no matter _how much_ she missed who he'd once been. She loved _Anakin_. Not Vader. _Never_ Vader. And, he wouldn't like -or _accept_ \- that one bit.

Which meant...she was going to have to fight tooth and nail to get out of here.

If Threepio were here, he'd undoubtedly start spitting out the odds against her succeeding. Smirking at the thought, she squared her shoulders and locked her jaw. She _would_ get out of here. Alive and in one piece (hopefully). But, first...she had to find Obi-Wan. Glancing around, she noted that this hallway was shorter and was 'T' shaped on one end, as it opened onto another crossing hallway. _No doors on either side, _she noted as she cautiously began walking forward toward the other hallway. There was one door in front of her, at the juncture ahead. As she approached the intersecting halls, that door suddenly opened, revealing a glimpse into a semi-darkened room, the muted blue-green glow from Holoscreens visible on the floor.

Her senses all screaming, "_Trap! Trap!," _she realized that this was obviously one of the Imperial control rooms...which meant it likely had a control console within (which meant holovid monitors she could try and use to track down Obi-Wan)...and, even better, being on an outside wall, it probably had one of those barred windows they'd noticed on their approach vector. Hmm...if she played her sabacc cards right, she could 1) Take out a few Imperials here, 2) Find Obi-Wan and maybe Unduli, and 3) Escape out the window. Not exactly a piece of cake (or the perfect plan...after all, cakes can fall apart), but certainly worth a shot, trap or not.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her nerves like Yoda had taught her as she approached the door. Flattening herself against the wall, she peered round the corner and looked left, then right, then back behind her, before darting forward and into the door. Perfect! It _was_ one of the control rooms...with the exit window just as she'd thought! _Jackpot! _Only thing was...there were no Imperials in the rather large control room. No one monitoring the Holofeeds. No one monitoring transmissions. No one monitoring the control status of the various instrument panels. Ok. That wasn't right. _Yep, a trap. It figures._

"I've been expecting you."

The unexpected mechanicalized voice from behind her made her gasp and jolt with surprise. She whirled on the balls of her feet, whipping out her lightsaber and igniting it to face...Not Vader, as she had anticipated (the voice wasn't the same as Vader's she now realized) but a much shorter fellow dressed in Mandalorian armor with very distinctive markings on them. She'd heard of this guy before. Never met him, but she knew of him...and surprisingly, he was working for Vader. Intriguing. Imperials tended to avoid this guy's type for the most part, but then, Vader had always been one to bend (or break, as it were) the rules as he saw fit. She smirked under her own mask. "Well, well, well...The notorious _Boba Fett._ We meet at last."

She tilted her head slightly in greeting. She respected this man's skills and even his apparent lack of character (which made him all the more dangerous, she knew). Out of all the bounty hunters in the galaxy she knew of, this one's reputation far exceeded them all. He was ruthless, thorough, and never backed down from any challenge, which was why the Hutts favored him so much. If he'd had any sense of morality or principles - other than his own - she would likely have enjoyed working with him for the Rebellion. But, his allegiance was tied to one thing only ...credits, lots and lots of credits...and was totally lacking in any moral compass. And, working for Vader meant one thing. He was under orders to bring her to the Dark Lord.

_Not_ happening.

Fett stepped forward. He could see the steely determination in her dark brown eyes, and he realized she was not going to comply and come quietly. Under very strict orders from her estranged Sith Lord husband to not harm so much as one hair on her head, he knew if she resisted (which she would, no doubt), the likelihood of injury increased exponentially. After all, he'd seen the Holofootage of the carnage she'd single-handedly wrecked before. In fact, he'd even found out who some of the assassins were that trained her. So, he had an inkling of what she was capable of...especially with that lightsaber in her hand. She'd fought Vader himself, apparently, saber to saber, and had held her own. So, she couldn't be taken lightly.

Of course, his job now was simply one of containment. As soon as she'd plunged through the trapdoor in the floor, he'd comm'd Vader, who had already landed his shuttle and was making his way quickly to this exact location. Vader would be the one to capture his wife. Fett just had to stall her long enough to prevent her escape from this office. Without getting himself killed, of course.

Fett inclined his head in acknowledgement of her greeting. "Lady Vader."

"DON'T YOU _DARE_ CALL ME THAT!"

Both surprised...and somehow not, at the same time...at her reaction, he calmly replied, "That _is_ your title, isn't it? You _are_ legally married to Lord Vader, are you not?"

He listened to her gasping angry inhalations and sensed he'd obviously struck a nerve. "No. I am _not_ married to that evil monster."

Her declaration was spoken with such venom, such force, he almost believed her. _Maybe it's just wishful thinking on her part_, he surmised. After all, their ideals were obviously polar opposites, he being a Sith, and she working for the Rebellion as an assassin. "I'm afraid I don't know what to call you then, Madam." He hoped he could keep her talking. The update given in his helmet's internal earpiece from Vader was five minutes and counting. Yeah, well...

Five minutes with _this_ woman could prove fatal.

Advancing a few more steps forward, he was careful to keep a grip on his EE3-carbine rifle. He also had a Mandalorian heavy blaster holstered on his left hip. Both weapons were unlocked and set to stun. He'd rather not have to use them and would prefer to let husband and wife slug it out. That was by far the safer option...for _him_ anyway. While Vader was busy trying to subdue his wife, Fett could then go take care of the Jedi who should be stuck at the moment in lockdown in Unduli's cell.

Unfortunately, she took that moment to launch herself at him in a surprise attack move, swinging her lightsaber in an arc and bringing it down at him so swiftly he barely had time to block the blow with his rifle...and he was shocked at just how strong she was. Brown eyes glowered menacingly at his helmet. "My name is not important, Fett." That was all she said before she swung out with her left leg and swept his feet literally out from under him, dropping him to the ground with a thud. He rolled right just in time as her saber impacted against the floor where his head had just been, melting the durasteel and sending sparks flying. Continuing to roll across the floor as she rained blow after blow at him, he blocked each one or rolled to avoid the jarring impact of each strike on the floor, finally finding room to push himself up and jump back to his feet. He stretched out with his right arm and depressed a button on the underside of his wrist arm bracer with his left hand, and instantly, a cord shot out and wrapped around her arms and upper chest several times. _There, that should hold her._

Wrong move.

Instantly, she grabbed the hilt of her lightsaber in both hands and tilted it carefully backward and _Snap!_, the cord severed in half. Jumping back a foot, she jerked the loosened cord over her head and reached into a pocket on her belt, grabbed what looked like a small black pellet...and before he could stop her, she threw it at the floor between them. Instantly, thick grayish smoke filled the room. His helmet filtered out the pungent smell, but it didn't allow him to see _through_ it. He heard the sounds of her scrambling across the floor. At the same time, he heard the distinct sound of mechanical breathing and the pounding tread of heavy footsteps outside in the hallway heralding the approach of the woman's husband...and his employer.

Vader had arrived.

Just as the Sith Lord walked through the door of the room, the sound of blaster fire, shattering glass, the loud roar of whooshing wind, and then two rapid slashes of a lightsaber through the cast iron bars over the window was heard. Sizing up the situation in one glance, Vader advanced quickly across the room…But, not fast enough. As Fett moved to join Vader, they both watched as Vader's wife (Fett _still_ didn't know her name) hauled herself onto the ledge and kicked the bars free. At that moment, Vader reached out with his right hand as if to grab her and stop her.

Her comm sounded suddenly, a male voice crying out, "_Jump, Nightblade! Now!"_

Without glancing back at them, she leapt from the ledge. Vader's outstretched hand swiped through empty space where she'd just been, and he stepped to the window, staring out into the darkness of night. Fett stood at his side and stared down the side of the tower. Below them they spotted a modified Delta-Class JV-7 assault vehicle, and Vader's wife had just landed on the rear side of the craft, where an open hatch with a hooded figure..._Blast it! That Jedi escaped, too!..._waited to catch her and haul her inside. Already the rear engines were firing to begin accelerating, as she crawled the few feet to grasp the Jedi's outstretched hands. Grabbing the woman around the waist, he steadied her as they both looked back up for a moment to where Vader and Fett stood silently. Then, their pedestal descended and the hatch closed, sealing them off from view. Their ship's engines revved up, and the ship turned and steadily climbed toward the atmosphere, preparing to make the jump to hyperspace.

Vader slammed his fist down on the window ledge, but remained silent. Fett wisely said nothing. As they watched the ship launch into hyperspace and disappear entirely from view, he knew Vader had already ordered that any unauthorized vehicle attempting to depart the airspace be allowed to do so without being attacked. But, that _didn't_ mean they weren't being _tracked_. Vader was nothing if not thorough. Aware that his wife's escape was at least a possibility, the Sith had prepared for just such an event, arranging for small flying microdroids to implant tiny tracking devices of his own design, on their ship. Vader was tenacious in his resolve to capture his wife alive and unharmed and, being the brilliant strategist that he was, had prepared for every contingency he could think of. The Dark Lord continued to stare off into space in the direction that they had flown. Fett braved a comment.

"At least we now know her codename, Lord Vader. They call her _Nightblade_."

For a moment, Fett was concerned he was about to breathe his last, but Vader simply turned to stare at him. The Sith's only comment, when he spoke, was dry...

"And, I told _you_ they were masters of improvisation, Fett."

Fett nodded his head, "Yes, Sir." Vader turned and exited the room, his black cloak billowing out behind him. Fett watched the Dark Lord exit the room before turning to glance back out the window. Yes, they certainly had proven _that. _Now, they would have to wait and see what data the tracking device provided. Wherever it took Nightblade and her Jedi companion, Fett was sure Vader would not be far behind. They were getting closer. Today had also proven _that. _Nightblade and the Jedi were very good...but not infallible. Sooner or later, they'd trip up.

And, Vader...and Fett...would be there waiting for them when they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they escaped...but did they really? Vader's got a tracker and he's about to learn some very important things!   
The song for this chapter is Every Breath You Take by Chase Holder....a nice, creepy cover of the original song. I love it.   
Leave some love!   
Ladyvader23


	11. The Discovery

The rush of wind and the whine of the engines was the only sound that enveloped them, as they whipped through the forest, dodging trees and other foliage. Neither of them were happy at the outcome of this mission, and both of them were ready for a break. A nice long break.

He'd _almost_ caught them.

That thought reverberated round and round inside her head. Just a finger's breadth. That's all the space that had kept her out of his clutches, as she'd leapt from the window ledge. If she'd been even the least bit slower or he'd arrived justa moment sooner, she wouldn't have made it to safety. No. She'd now be his prisoner. She involuntarily shuddered.

Padme and Obi-Wan rode their speeder bikes in silence. Though Padme put on an indifferent front outside, inside she was a roiling mess. But, surprisingly…not as badly as before after their duel in the junkyard. Now, it seemed inevitable that she would run into Vader again. And, again. Even her brief brush with him at the Spire would certainly not be the last time she would see him. It was now blatantly obvious the trap had been laid specifically for her—Obi-Wan too, yeah, but mostly for her. She knew her adversary well. Vader would strive to capture her first, _then_ he'd focus on capturing Obi-Wan, if he didn't already have him. It was an unsettling thought.

She frowned.

She had known from the very beginning of her duties as the Rebellion's assassin that this would be a possibility, if he ever found out her identity, that she was alive, but she had always naively assumed that he either wouldn't find out, or she'd be dead by the time he did. Now, it was a very real threat - her being captured by him, and she suddenly found herself unsure of continuing with her missions. Not because she wanted to stop fighting for democracy, of course, but because she had children. Two precious, adorable gifts from her beloved husband, and they needed their mom far more than the Rebellion needed her services.

Every time she left on a mission, there was a possibility that she would _never_ come home. But every time, Padme was sure that her children would be in the safe hands of her mother, Jobal, plus Obi-Wan and Yoda. _But,_ if she was ever captured by Vader, sheknewit would only be a matter of time before he found the children. And, if he found them…

Obi-Wan's stark warning two years ago echoed in her mind. _If he finds them, Padme, he'll turn them to the Dark Side. You must not let him know that you and the children are safe and alive. If he finds you and those children…__**especially **__those extremely powerful Force-sensitive children…democracy will be forever lost. _She hadn't wanted to believe him, but Obi-Wan had also fought Ana…_Vader_ after she'd passed out on Mustafar. He had seen firsthand who her husband had become. Hell, she'd seen it, too. Those glowing yellow, almost orange, eyes so full of anger and _hate. _And, over the last two years, she had _finally_ accepted it, Anakin's fall, and was now grateful that she hadn't secretly reached out to Vader since then.

That didn't mean she didn't mourn and ache for who Vader had once been. She did.

So, now Padme was faced with a real dilemma. Right now, at this very moment, Vader was hunting her across the galaxy, but thank the Force, he had _no idea_ where she lived. She had a feeling though, that it wouldn't be long before he did find out, if she continued going on these missions. Perhaps it would be best if…

She shook her head, focusing on her driving. She had time to think it over. After their failed mission (that, according to Obi-Wan, was doomed from the start), they had split ways with Rex and his men. She had delivered her report to the Council, who then would be spreading the word that Master Unduli was indeed dead, in the hopes that others would not fall into the same trap. After switching ships, they were now back on Gandle Ott, and she had been given leave to take a few weeks off. She planned to enjoy it while it lasted—training with Yoda and Obi-Wan, playing with her kids, being with her mom…Soon, the war would escalate, and then _no one_ would be able to take a break from war. Least of all _her._

Memories and regrets of the past suddenly assaulted her, nearly choking her with their intensity.

Oh, how she wished she and Anakin had done more relaxing together during the Clone Wars, like he'd begged her to do so many times, only to have her refuse over and over in the name of '_duty'_. Now, it seemed like such a wasted effort. Perhaps, if they had…She shook her head, cutting her musings short. No sense in crying over spilt bantha milk. What was done, was done and couldn't be changed. No matter how much it hurt.

They finally reached the clearing, the house ahead of them quiet, still, almost tranquil under the shade of the surrounding trees. They parked, turned off the bikes, and Padme slowly got off of the hers, stretching. "Are you _really_ thinking of quitting?" Obi-Wan asked with a raised brow, and she could tell that he was trying to remain neutral. He would be _ecstatic_ if she quit, not because he didn't want to liberate the galaxy, but because he wanted her and her family safe. He felt like he owed it to the memory of her husband, his brother…

"Maybe." She replied shortly, rolling out her shoulders. "I've got time to think things through." She turned then, about to head to the house, but stopped as Yoda slowly approached them, leaning on his cane. She hadn't seen him walking when they approached. Honestly, the ancient Jedi Grandmaster almost blended into the surrounding grass. _Perfect camouflage, _she thought with some amusement.

"Senator, good evening." Yoda greeted with a soft smile. "Successful mission, did you have?"

Padme gritted her teeth as she spotted the twinkle in the old master's eye that told her that he already knew the answer to that question. She couldn't lie if she wanted to, to him, or herself.

"It could have gone better," She admitted, stiffly. "Vader is…_persistent. _I'm the one he's looking for, and I'm afraid that he won't stop until he has me."

Yoda shook his head gravely. "Letting go, Anakin was never good at." She grabbed her pack off the rear of her bike and slung it over her shoulder, wincing at the weight._ Force, _she must have been _super_ tired. The pack seemed to get heavier and heavier every _kriffing _day. Yes, a vacation would be a good time for rest, and for deciding what to do. "Made up your mind, have you?"

"No, Master Yoda." She replied sourly. Jedi were so good at perceiving things…and it occurred to her that, with the exception of her mother, she was surrounded by people who could sense her feelings and thoughts without even trying. It might have been an unsettling thought, but since she knew and trusted all of them, it was more of an annoyance when she wanted her privacy. "I've been given a few weeks off. I plan on coming to a decision by the end of it."

Yoda nodded. "Wise indeed, Senator." He opened his mouth to say more, but loud squeals interrupted him. The three of them turned to find Luke and Leia making a beeline for their mother. Padme dropped her pack to the ground, broke out into a huge smile, and dropped to her knees, her arms outstretched…

* * *

_Finally, _he would get his answers! He'd made sure of it. Yes, she'd gotten away once more with Obi-Wan, much to his jealous annoyance. He scowled at the thought, but this time, he'd made absolutely_ certain_ his backup plan was in place. No failures would occur _this _time.

The moment he'd boarded the _Executor,_ he'd ordered Piett to keep _all_ personnel far away from his quarters if they valued their lives. Then, he'd locked himself in his room, removed the damned suit, changed into his sleep pants and a loose black tunic, and sat rigidly at his desk, watching the holo footage his microscopic probe droid was feeding back to his personal encrypted channel. He'd created the droid himself—it was nearly undetectable, no larger than his thumb, and colored black to better hide in its surroundings. Even better, unlike standard probe droids, this one didn't make any noise when following a target, whether it was flying _or _crawling on the three tiny legs embedded in it. He'd made _sure_ that one of these droids snuck onto Padme's getaway ship while the rebels had been hurrying to get back onto it. It was also equipped with facial recognition, an amazing feature to include on such a microscopic device. So, the moment Padme had entered that ship, it had registered a perfect match with the data Vader had already programmed into it, and it had followed her through the ship and found the bag belonging to her and hidden itself away in it.

Sheer genius,if he did say so himself.

There was the possibility that it would be found, but when he activated the link to the droid, he was immensely pleased to turn on the holo footage in his room to find that she had not, in fact, discovered its existence...In fact, she had actually been in the middle of giving a report by comm to the leaders of the Rebellion. While this in itself was more than interesting from a military standpoint, the actual information she provided them was not anything he didn't already know. Just a summary of what had happened at the Spire…though the way she sounded (for he could only see her back), she sounded detached, as though this wasn't a battle of wills between dueling husband and an estranged wife. It was like she was emotionless about the whole thing. That was a disconcerting thought. He frowned. He'd been an emotional mess since discovering his wife was alive. To hear her sound so...monotone, practically blase, about their interaction was upsetting. Didn't she still love him like he still loved her?

He pushed these thoughts aside for the moment. He needed to focus here.

The woman she was speaking to, however (Mon Mothma, Vader knew. He recognized the woman's voice, and he rolled his eyes—they'd always suspected she was part of the resistance, but he couldn't exactly bring _this_ holo as proof to the Emperor without exposing Padme. And, he refused to do that), obviously knew that she was hiding her feelings from her intentionally, and gave her two weeks off. The Padme that Anakin knew would have protested vehemently against that, but she didn't so much as ask why. She simply accepted it, thanked the ex-senator, and cut off the comm.

Interesting. Why wouldn't she put up a fight? Padme wasn't one to give in. She never had been. Just look how hard he'd had to work to woo her when they were courting. He expected a fight to convince her to come home to him, even when he did manage to capture her. So why…? He shook his head. It didn't matter, he decided. What was important was that she was given time off—time when she might go and stay in one place for an extended amount of time, making it easier for him to capture her. He mused on this, as he watched hours of boring hyperspace travel.

At one point, she, Obi-Wan, and her rebel friends (one of which had a veryfamiliar voice…Was that _Rex?_ No, it couldn't be…Could it?...) separated after landing at an obvious transfer point (though the droid didn't leave Padme's bag, and he had no clue where they were at), and when the camera finally stopped bouncing around due to the bag bumping against her hip, he found they were in yet _another_ ship, though he couldn't see much of it. He _did _notice Padme grabbed the pilot's seat while Obi-Wan took the copilot's chair, and he actually smirked when he overheard Obi-Wan requesting she '_try not to fly like Anakin for once,' _to which Padme just shook her head and laughed, firing up the engines, and lifting off.

_Please,_ he prayed to the Force, _please don't let her discover the droid_…and maybe the Force was feeling generous, because as the hours passed, Padme never once bothered to go into her bag, and soon they had landed on a brightly lit, lush looking planet, one that reminded him of a cross between Naboo and Endor, and then they were mounting what looked like speeder bikes, and speeding off into the unknown. He tried to make out anything he could, but the droid had hunkered down deep into the pack to keep from falling out, and all he saw was darkness. He growled in frustration, but he bid his time. This was further than he'd gotten so far. This time, Padme would lead him right straight to her hide out, and she'd be his again. He smirked. _Oh yes, my Angel. You'll soon be back in my arms, my Love._

A thought struck him again, one he tried not to dwell on for fear of what he might find. What if Padme wasn't alone? Oh, he didn't mean Obi-Wan, of course. Although, he scowled and gritted his teeth at the thought of his ex-best friend staying anywhere near his wife. No. He meant someone else, someone who would be no more than two, if he or she survived…His palms began to sweat, and it suddenly became very hard to breathe. What would he do if he found his child, alive? He, of course, wanted his child, had always wanted multiple children with Padme, but…it was like the Jedi-situation all over again. _Kriffing hells,_ it would be hard enough to hide Padme from Sidious, and even harder still to hide both her and a toddler. _That is, _he reminded himself bitterly,_ if the baby didn't die because of what you did to Padme._

He shook his head, glaring at the holoscreen now, his jaw tight, as finally the speeder slowed and then stopped. Slowly, the little droid peeked back out of the bag flap, barely visible, and yet giving him enough of a view to see that they had stopped in a clearing densely surrounded by trees. Vader frowned, and his fingers began to fly over his console, trying to get the precise location from the little droid, still listening intently as Obi-Wan suddenly asked, _"Are you really thinking of quitting?"_

Vader froze, half jubilated, half dismayed. Yes, he wanted Padme to stop her foolish vendetta against the Empire...against him. It would certainly be safer. Not to mention the wiser course of action. And yet…Padme wasn't a quitter. He was certain he knew what her answer would be, and yet, when she spoke, she completely surprised him._ "Maybe. I've got to think things through."_ He remembered how stubborn his wife was. When she set her eyes on something, she went after it with full single-minded determination. He'd _never_ known her to start something and then later say she was thinking about giving up. Why start now?

He didn't get more chance to dwell on that, for a very familiar voice suddenly reached his ears, and the chrono on his nightstand instantly collapsed in on itself as a wave of fury slammed into him. Yoda. He knew that voice almost as well as his own master's…Yoda's speech pattern was, after all, unique. As Padme picked up the pack and slung it back over her shoulder, he only managed to get a quick glimpse of the little green troll. He snarled. Why the _hell _was _Yoda _near his wife?! Obi-Wan, he sort of understood. But _Yoda?! _Padme wasn't strong in the Force… What did she need _two _Jedi Masters nearby for?!

He listened to every word that was exchanged, gritting his teeth in anger, as they talked about him, and Yoda mentioned that he wasn't good at letting attachments go. Just because he was a human being and had feelings didn't mean he was less for not being an emotionless green freak like someone he knew. He certainly never would have told anyone coming to him for help to save someone's life to just let them die and then rejoice in their death. To this day, it was literally the stupidest, most asinine, most ridiculous advice he'd ever been given.

The conversation was suddenly cut short, however, by squeals. Very loud squeals. Vader startled at the sound, not recognizing it at first, as Padme (and the pack) swung around. He still couldn't see anything useful, and as his fists clenched in frustration, Padme suddenly dropped to her knees, the pack falling limply beside her to the ground, giving the little droid more ability to peek out to see what was happening, and...

His entire universe froze.

Vader's eyes widened to their fullest extent, his jaw dropping open, and his breathing hitched in his chest. He'd expected…he'd _hoped_…Force, he'd hoped that if Padme was alive, that his child was alive, too. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl, just that he or she were somehow just as alive and healthy as his wife was. He'd _never_ once expected or even _considered_ that there would be _two children_ with her! But, his eyes did not deceive him—there _were_ two little ones, about two years old, the same age his child would have been, running on stout little legs towards his wife with their little chubby arms stretched towards her, massive smiles on their faces, joy clearly evident in their eyes.

At first, he didn't know what to think, or to feel. In fact, some wild, crazy part of him assumed they were someone else's children—_Hell, _he thought with a jealous snarl, _maybe Obi-Wan had broken his precious code and had them with her._ But, as soon as that thought came, rage consuming him with the idea of his ex-best friend even _touching_ Padme, it passed, a feeling of soothing knowledge permeated him from the Force, dispelling that thought completely. No. These were undoubtedly, without question, his children. The boy was obviously his. Even at two, he could already see himself clearly in his features. The same blue eyes. The same sandy blonde hair. The same jaw line. But Padme's nose, he noted with a smile.

And the girl…obviously, she was Padme's. Curly mahogany brown hair that, at this age, was almost unmanageable. Dark beautiful brown eyes that held embers of fire already. Rosy cheeks that were still chubby with baby fat. She didn't necessarily look like him, but the expression on her face…He thought he'd seen it reflecting back at him in the mirror. A very long time ago, back when he'd still felt joy…His children. They were beautiful. As his wife scooped the kids up in her arms, laughing and tearfully kissing their foreheads, Vader suddenly felt a rush of…what? Desperation? Anger? Sadness? Yes. All of that. But, there was something else. Something he hadn't felt since…

Joy. He felt joy.

He was even more desperate to find them now, not just so that he could reunite with his wife like he should have two years before, but so that he could meet his children, hold them, snuggle them, love them. His twins. Twins..._Holy Force!_ He had_ twins_…His _son_ and his _daughter._

Anger. He felt _angry_ that he'd lost two years. _Two_ whole years lost! He was _furious, _absolutely_ livid_, that Sidious had not only lied to him about Padme's death at his hands on Mustafar, but that he'd also lied about him also killing his unborn children! Oh, how he'd hated himself for murdering his family…and yet, there they were. Safe and sound before his eyes. Across the galaxy, his children were seemingly totally unaware of their own father. Did they think Obi-Wan was their father?! If they did, he'd make damn sure Obi-Wan died a very slow, painful…

He growled again, tears threatening to overflow as he stared at his children.

Sadness suddenly overwhelmed him in a surge so powerful it would've dropped him to his knees, if he hadn't already been sitting down. He'd been out, roaming the galaxy as the Emperor's fist, when he should have been at home with his family, helping his wife to care for and raise their children. He should have been there for their birth. He should have helped with diapers, feedings, and baths. He should have watched them take their first steps. He should have been there for their first words. Hell, he didn't even know their names! For the first time in many long years, his mother's kind face entered his mind, and he pictured how disappointed she would be. In what he'd become. In how he'd treated his wife, choking her mercilessly and then forcing her to run and hide with his children. From him. Perhaps he didn't deserve…

And yet….joy. He was a _father._ He'd spent the last two years facing a future of unending loneliness and unparalleled sorrow. Now…his beloved wife was alive. Trying to kill him and destroy the Empire, yes, but _alive. _And, he hadtwo beautiful children…two children who needed him, who needed bothof their parents. For the first time in two years, there was hope. True hope for the future.

He couldn't have stopped the radiant smile that spread across his face if he'd tried.

Without realizing it, he turned the volume up all the way, listening to his children's voices for the very first time. They were both speaking at once haltingly, babbling really, like any child their age, but that didn't slow them down in the slightest. They were clearly happy to see their mom again…their mom who at any point could never return and leave them wondering why she never came back…

"What the _hell, _Padme?!" he growled aloud, suddenly frustrated with his wife's decision to work as an assassin. Oh, he'd known how dangerous her mission was when it was just the fact that she herself was alive, hunting Imperials, a thought-dead senator with Darth Vader as her husband. That alone was enough to put a massive target on her back. Indeed, he was under direct orders from Sidious to find her and kill her! But, she was also the mother of his children, who would be left parentless - and at the mercies of the Jedi - if she were to be killed. He growled again and raked his hands through his hair. How could she put herself at risk like that?! Dammit! This wasn't the Clone Wars, when she'd sometimes seemingly thrown herself into the fray without thinking of the consequences. Now, the consequences were much more dire. But then Padme spoke, and again his mind went blank. _"Luke,"_ she said, lovingly, reverently, her hand running through his son's hair. _"Leia."_ The other hand tangled in his daughter's riot of curls.

Luke. Leia. The names of his children. They were perfect.

He felt a sharp twinge of sadness at realizing he hadn't been involved in their naming, but he also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would have chosen the exact same names for them. _Oh, Force! _He was a father to a wonderful little boy named Luke, and a darling little girl named Leia. The thought felt…right. More right than anything had felt to him in a very long time. He found himself mouthing their names, over and over again, a huge grin on his face, feeling the way his mouth moved when he said their names. He wondered if they would like him when they met, or if they had been told awful stories of their father, and would hate him. Was it even possible to hate at that age? He didn't even know, and frankly, he didn't care.

His fingers were moving before he'd consciously realized what he was doing. In a matter of moments, the coordinates of the droid, and therefore Padme and his children, were in front of him, and he was comm'ing Piett. "_Sir."_ Piett's voice sounded over the intercom.

Reading the data output from the droid and cross-referencing it with the maps of the Outer Rim territories, Vader couldn't help thinking, _Gotcha!_, when the planet name Gandle Ott flashed in red on his screen. So, that's where she'd been hiding all this time. Hmm...the Empire had little interest there and even less of a presence on the planet - or even in the immediate vicinity surrounding the planet. That would work in his favor. The less Sidious knew, the better. He turned his attention to Piett.

"Have you made_ sure_ that _all personnel_ on this ship are loyal only to _me?"_ He demanded, his eyes still on his little family. Leia was talking a million miles an hour to a grinning Padme, while Luke had let go of his mom to bend over and pick up a Loth Cat, who squirmed awkwardly in his son's chubby arms. He narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling he knew where they'd gotten the cat from. He didn't really love animals all that much, but he'd make an exception if it made his children happy…even if having a cat aboard the Executor wasn't exactly a recipe for order.

There was a pause, and Vader realized that the voice Piett was hearing was his own, actual voice, and his officer didn't recognize it. He didn't give a damn. _"Yes, Lord Vader."_ Piett didn't sound phased, but even from here, Vader could feel his surprise.

"I'm sending you coordinates, Piett. Change course immediately." He paused, remembering the ships logs. Even on his own ship, he had a sneaky feeling that Sidious would have a way into his ship logs somehow. "Make absolutely certain that this journey is completely off the books, Piett. Alter the fuel logs, as well. I will not have anyone - on or off this ship - knowing where we are going if they don't need to know. Is that clear?"

"_It will be done, Milord."_ He cut the comm off, and continued to stare at his children, at his wife. He wouldn't let them escape. He _c_ouldn't. Now that he knew where they were, the stakes were even higher. He'd find them, kill the Jedi who had taken them from him, bring them back aboard the Executor, somehow woo his wife back and convince her to resume their marriage and stay with him again, and then…Well, he actually didn't know what he'd do with two toddlers (and a Loth cat, he thought wryly) aboard a military vessel, but he'd figure it out. He always did. His immediate plans set, he felt the ship enter into hyperspace.

No. He wouldn't lose them. _Never_ again. He was bringing them home, and they _would_ be the family they were always meant to be…

Failure wasn't even considered. He had them this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter. I really, really loved it. Dad Vader is best Vader. I will die on that hill.   
The song for this chapter is Luke and Leia's theme by John Williams!   
Leave some love!   
Love,  
Ladyvader23


	12. Making a House Call

Eyes wide, they lay quietly in the semi-darkened room, watching her closely, listening intently.

It was always like this. Every night. And, it both amused and exasperated her to no end.

"...and they lived happily ever after." Padme finished the book Leia had picked out (a fairytale, to Luke's great annoyance) and closed it, setting it down on the nightstand before smiling at her children. They stared back at her from their beds, Leia smiling dreamily, while Luke's face was still pinched into a disappointed scowl. "Alright. Time to close your eyes and go to sleep, my darlings." She knew even as she said it that it wouldn't be as easy as that.

It never was with her twins.

Sure enough, Luke sat right back up, instantly reaching to his own nightstand for the book he'd voted for earlier. A book about a daring smuggler getting into all sorts of wild amazing adventures. "My tuwn!" He insisted, picking it up and holding it out to her.

Padme sighed, already shaking her head. "No, Luke. You promised, remember?"

Luke made a show of thinking back, and shook his blonde head. "No wembew." He held out the book again.

"I don' like that book." Leia whined, her face scrunching up in a scowl, and suddenly, she too was sitting up, reaching for another one of her own books. "Read, Mama!"

Padme sighed and opened her mouth to respond, but a shadow suddenly fell across the semi-darkened room, blocking out part of the light filtering in from the lit hallway. Padme turned to find Obi-Wan leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the twins with an amused smile. Padme frowned, concern evident in her eyes, and seeing that, Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, indicating that he wasn't there due to any emergency. Padme relaxed a little-Obi-Wan rarely interrupted their nighttime routines. He only did so if the twins were using their Force abilities as an excuse to stay awake, like levitating (more like throwing) toys around the room. Padme didn't need for the twins to have any other distractions to use as an excuse not to go to sleep, and sure enough, the moment the twins noticed him, they both squealed with delight "Uncle Ben!" they cried, climbing out from beneath the covers, faces alight with excitement.

Padme's brow lowered and she shot Obi-Wan a glare, but he was already moving into the room, hands out in a calming gesture, pausing the twins before they could jump out of bed completely. "Yes, hello, Luke, Leia." Obi-Wan smiled warmly, stopping next to Padme's plush chair situated between the two beds. "It's time to go to sleep, young ones." This was clearly not what they wanted to hear. They both began to complain, but Obi-Wan again held up a hand, hushing them. It was obvious he was sending soothing, calming waves through the Force toward the twins. Padme tried not to bristle with jealousy. She was, of course, close to her children-she was their mother, and their only parent, after all. That kind of bond was special, and hard earned.

But, she was not Force sensitive like they were. Like their _father_ was. There was something in them, something they instinctually craved and needed, that she could never provide for them. Something Anakin should have provided, had he been there, and now only Obi-Wan and Yoda could do. Not as father figures,no, but as people like them. She was certain her children didn't fully understand why it was that they instinctively listened to their Uncle Ben and Master Yoda in ways they didn't to her, or their grandmother. Not yet. But, if she was truly honest with herself, she was...jealous of that connection. And, sad that they wouldn't be able to develop that bond deeper with either Obi-Wan or Yoda. Not like they would have if Anakin were still there.

She shook herself from that thought, only to find both of them reluctantly climbing back under the covers. She took that as good a time as any to get up and leave. She was sure that the moment they left, the twins would play and giggle until they tired themselves out. Frankly, as long as they stayed in their room, she would accept that tonight. "Good night, my darlings." She said, standing and moving to each bed to give them a gentle kiss on their foreheads. "Sweet dreams, my little padawans." She called them that name sometimes, not because she wanted them to be taken from her to train as Jedi, but because she knew that one day, fate would call upon them to take their place in rebuilding the Jedi Order….hopefully with her still nearby, watching proudly.

They were Skywalkers after all. It was undoubtedly their destiny.

But, for now, the twins just thought it was a silly name she made up for them, and they smiled. "Night night, Mama," Leia yawned.

"Nigh nigh." Luke agreed, and slowly, Padme and Obi-Wan tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly behind them.

Padme breathed a sigh of relief before turning to her friend. "Is there anything wrong?" She asked, getting straight to the point. She herself was exhausted-being home all day with the twins, even with her mother's and the Jedi's help, was _more_ than a handful. _And, I'm not getting any younger,_ she thought ruefully.

But, Obi-Wan didn't look concerned at all. "No, nothing is wrong." He assured her, smiling softly. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, tell-tale signs of exhaustion on his part as well. "I just came by to let you know that Master Yoda wishes to train with me alone for a few days."

"Oh." Padme frowned. "Well, I'll be sure to keep the twins out of your way."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Thanks for the sentiment, but it's not needed. Yoda insists that we need to go to the other side of the planet for this."

Padme arched her eyebrows and blinked in surprise. "Did he say why?" She asked.

"No. Just that it was necessary." He placed his hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "We should be back in two days' time. We aren't going far enough away that Yoda can't protect the twin's presence, so you should be safe. Needless to say, we won't be far if there's a problem."

She shuddered at the possibility. The likelihood of there being an issue was slim, true. They'd been so careful to hide their tracks, and she was sure that Vader hadn't picked up enough of her trail to lead him back here. Yet. She still had a week and a half to decide if she would 100% keep it that way by staying out of the Rebellion. "Alright." She yawned. "I guess I'll see you then. Have fun."

"Fun is not the word for it." Obi-Wan smiled wryly, but Padme had a feeling that he was going to enjoy spending time doing Jedi-things with Master Yoda. He so rarely got to do that anymore as it was. "Get some rest, Padme. I'll see you and the twins in a few days."

"Sure, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you."

* * *

He paced the width of the bridge, hands clasped behind his back.

The moment was now upon him, and yet, he couldn't believe what he felt rising in his gut.

But, he couldn't deny it either.

Darth Vader was fearless. He had faced legions of enemies and had single-handedly cut them all down with very little effort on his part. He had destroyed the Jedi Order. He had flown with precision and confidence through even the most impossible of parts of uncharted space. He was a Sith Lord, and Sith did not feel fear. But, as his super Star Destroyer jumped out of hyperspace in the late hours of the night cycle, the planet of Gandle Ott filling the view port of the bridge, he very distinctly felt it.

Fear.

Fear that he'd discover that they'd found his droid and had fled before he could land. Fear that they were still there and had somehow died in the last five minutes since he'd last checked on the droid's cameras. Those were irrational fears. He knew they were there, and he knew they hadn't randomly died. But, it was disconcerting to be standing above their planet, to be reaching through the Force, and not being able to sense anyone he knew down there. He knew it was likely a trick on either Yoda's or Obi-Wan's part, but it was concerning all the same.

But, there were more rational fears he needed to consider. What if they managed to escape again? What if he captured them, and they got hurt in the process? He'd explicitly ordered his personal troops of the 501st legion not to harm them, but he doubted Padme would let them be captured without one hell of a fight. He grimaced under his mask. There was too many variables, too many ways that either she or their children could be hurt. And, even when they were captured, he knew it would take everything he had (and then some) to convince Padme to see his side of things, to bring her round to his point of view. Her reaction to him in their previous two encounters had made that abundantly clear.

And his children..._Force,_ he didn't know anything about children. He didn't know how to talk to them, let alone convince them to love him as their father. Behind his mask, he frowned, took a deep breath, and turned, heading for the blast doors to the bridge. "Piett." His voice boomed through the mask, and he winced. Children would probably be terrified of a voice like that...but he couldn't take off the mask in front of his troops. And, unfortunately, he couldn't not bring his troops either. Padme had proved too elusive - and too lethal - to risk it.

His most trusted commander fell into step beside him. "Yes, Lord Vader."

"Have you prepared living quarters as I asked?" He realized that Piett was practically running to keep up with his long strides, but he didn't slow down. He couldn't slow down.

"Yes, My Lord…" Piett hesitated.

"And, you child-proofed it?" He demanded, knowing that this particular order was the source of Piett's hesitation. He had not yet told Piett why he'd asked such a strange demand of him and his crew. He had no need to explain himself to anyone except the Emperor, and even with the Emperor, he had no intention of telling him anything about his family. No. The Emperor must never know Padme survived Mustafar...or had given birth to their twins. Entering the turbolift, the two men quickly rode down to the hangar bay level.

"To the best of our ability, milord." Piett said slowly, obviously fearing his reaction to that. "As long as they stay in that room, there shouldn't be an issue." Vader didn't have to ask to know what he was talking about. A Star Destroyer was meant to destroy-a super Star Destroyer even more so. It was not designed to have toddlers running around on it. And yet…

"Start making sure that _entire_ deck is child proofed." Vader ordered as they entered the hangar, where his chosen troopers were waiting with rigid attention at the foot of the ramp to his personal shuttle. "I don't expect them to leave those quarters at this time, but eventually, they will need to have more room. Make the necessary renovations on that entire deck level, Piett. Make it as...comfortable and child friendly and inviting as possible. Spare no expense."

Piett was silent for a long moment, and Vader didn't need the Force to know that the other man was trying to fathom how to even begin following through on his new orders. Other officers might have questioned him, or insisted that it couldn't be done. But, Piett was a smart man, and he merely replied, if a little sheepishly, "It will be done, My Lord."

"Good." Vader stopped, turning to him. "I expect a receiving party ready to transport them to their quarters when I return."

Piett gave a curt nod. "Of course, Sir." He hesitated for a moment, his eyes wary. "Good luck, Lord Vader," he said quietly, slowly, as if worried they were the wrong words. Vader might have scoffed at him before but….with what he was about to do, he would need all the luck he could get. But, he didn't say that, of course. He simply turned on his heel, and stormed up the ramp into his ship, his troopers following on his heels.

It took an hour for him to fly the shuttle to a clearing about two kilometers away from the signal the droid was giving off. He didn't want to risk landing too closely and have the noise from the ship cause his wife to flee with the children before he could have his men surround the house. He didn't want to risk giving Obi-Wan and Yoda a chance to get into a defensive position before he'd even lowered the shuttle ramp. He'd gone through this with his men, and as he lowered the shuttle ramp, they moved as silently as their armor would allow them to into the dark forest beyond. He glanced at the chrono on the ship's board, pleased to see that it was now two in the morning.

Hopefully, the house and its guardians would be asleep.

He followed his men, his armor quieter, save for the breathing unit that echoed his breaths. He wished to turn it off, but that would also turn off the central air temperature system. The planet wasn't a desert planet like Tatooine, but it was warm enough to make the suit unbearably hot. Oh, how he wished he hadn't had to wear it. He shook the thought from his mind as they neared the clearing that he knew held the small house with his family inside of it. His stormtroopers were already fanning out, moving to surround the house, their weapons drawn, set to stun.

As he entered the clearing, he made sure to cloak his presence within the Force, trying to keep the two Jedi masters from sensing him. It turned out to be unnecessary-the moment he stepped into the clearing and saw the main house and the smaller house behind it that he knew the Jedi were living in, the Force whispered that they weren't there, or anywhere nearby, for that matter. He frowned, troubled by that. Surely, even _Yoda_ would have sensed his presence. He may have been able to hide himself from the likes of Obi-Wan, at least temporarily, but Yoda...Yoda was the only other Force sensitive, other than the Emperor, who rivaled his own ability in the Force. Yoda would not be fooled.

And yet...he wasn't there.

No matter. He'd come back and deal with them both later. His first priority was taking his family back aboard the _Executor_. If the Jedi weren't there, it would only make his job easier. Well. Marginally. He was sure that given the chance, Padme would fight tooth and nail to keep from being captured. And, he didn't want to have to have his children see their parents fighting. They probably wouldn't understand...and if he lost his temper…

No. He wouldn't lose his temper. He'd done that once on Mustafar...and he'd almost lost them. Forever. He refused to do that again. _Never again,_ he vowed silently, as he silently stalked around the side of the house, the Force thrumming with anticipation around him as he reached the door where four of his best stormtroopers waited for his command. Normally, he'd order them to break the door down. To hell with pleasantries. But again, he didn't want to alert his wife-turned-assassin if she was still unaware of their presence, and breaking the door down would be one sure-fired guaranteed way to alert her.

So instead, he reached out with the Force, feeling for the lock, praying that it would be a relatively simple one...and it was. Smirking, he used the Force to slide the lock out of alignment, and quietly turn the knob. The door clicked open almost silently, and his troopers jolted a bit in surprise, but they were too well trained to let it throw them off completely. They switched on the night vision lights attached to their blasters and pushed the door all the way open into the darkened, quiet house.

Vader itched to lead, to be the one to tear the house apart looking for its occupants. But, he also had no desire to be caught in any traps Padme might have left for unsuspecting intruders, for he assumed she would have them. It would have been the smart thing to do, after all...but as his troopers entered the home and he followed suit, his black cape swishing behind him across the tiled floor, he found to his surprise (and dismay) that there weren't any. _How foolish could she be?!,_ he thought furiously. What if he _had_ come to legitimately hurt her and their children?! There would be no warning to stop him.

Then again, a reasonable voice said in his head, with two Jedi Masters living right behind their house - and as deadly and formidable assassin as his wife was - who _needed_ an alarm system? But, the Jedi weren't there, and here _he_ was, the second in command to the Empire, the Sith Lord who was _supposed_ to kill the assassin known as Night Blade, his wife, standing in her own living room. A living room that, seen clearly through his mask despite the fact that there were no lights on, seemed...too small for his presence. He frowned. He'd seen holofootage of the place before he'd arrived above planet.

It was _quaint,_ certainly nothing like the grandeur of their apartment at 500 Republica back on Coruscant, but yet, clearly much safer for children than that apartment was (seriously, he remembered well the landing for his ship jutting out without any walls or rails about it hundreds of floors above the city...a toddler wouldn't have lasted long in that apartment). Still, it hadn't seemed like...Padme. And, it was certainly not what he wanted for his children, for his family. His wife and children deserved the best. His family deserved to be raised on an estate large enough for them to roam carefree. And yet, his wife had done what she could with the place-even if the ceiling was so close to the top of his head he could have easily reached up and touched it with his hand. If his children had inherited his height, they would soon outgrow this house.

All the more reason to get them quickly and bring them back aboard the _Executor._

His stormtroopers began to move silently towards the hallway past the living room, again ahead of him as per protocol. But, he stopped them before they could. "After me." He ordered, just barely managing to speak quietly through the mask. They paused obediently until he'd passed them, before following after him. There were four doors in the hallway, three closed, and one open to reveal a fresher. He assumed, then, that the closed doors were bedrooms. Silently, he approached the first one, carefully reaching out with the Force to open the door, creaking it open just enough to peer inside.

His breath caught in his chest, and his throat closed. There, two twin toddler beds, with matching nightstands and a plush armchair in between. Toys and tiny shoes scattered the floor, books were piled on one nightstand, and in each bed were the sleeping figures of his children.

Luke. Leia.

Leia was all snuggled up under the covers, hugging her pillow, her dark curls so like her mother's. _Beautiful._ Luke had kicked the covers off and was sprawled out, the loth cat sleeping soundly up against his little body, purring contentedly in its sleep. Vader almost rushed in to touch them, to pick them up and hold them in his arms...but now wasn't the time for that. He needed to apprehend their mother first...but more importantly, he didn't want to wake them up yet. No. Not yet.

But, before moving on, he reached out in the Force, grasping hold of the edge of Luke's covers, and gently pulled them up and back over his son, making sure he was fully tucked in before releasing it. Luke stirred a little and sighed, but he didn't wake up. Behind his helmet, Vader cracked a smile, and closed the door quietly behind him, turning to the nearest Stormtrooper. "Wait outside the door." He ordered, "Do not wake the children."

"Yes, Sir." The stormtrooper moved into position, and reluctantly, Vader moved forward.

The next bedroom held an occupant he hadn't quite expected: Jobal, his mother-in-law. Not that she'd known that fact two years ago….though, now he supposed she probably did. She likely knew what he'd become, too…He frowned at the thought. For some reason, that thought disturbed him. Jobal had always been a pleasant and friendly woman toward him. Would her reaction to him be anything like his wife's was now?

Shaking that thought off, he watched his mother-in-law for a moment.

The woman was asleep, snoring softly, unaware of his presence, her lightly gray-streaked hair in a braid down her back. He hadn't seen her on the holofootage before….but then again, the droid had only stayed largely outside of the house, not risking sneaking into the building except for brief glances in the front door when the twins had come in and out of the house. Jobal had always been a proper woman, and he doubted she'd have much desire to spend much time outdoors, especially when they were so remote. Even less than Padme, he couldn't imagine why she'd want to live out here. To be close to her grandchildren? He frowned again. But, what about Ruwee, his father-in-law? He wasn't in the room. Where was he at? And, what about Sola and her family? He didn't know. He'd avoided any mention of Padme and her family after….after everything. He hadn't looked up to see what had befallen them. Not knowing their fate brought a sudden sense of unease in his gut, and he quietly closed that bedroom door, too. "Wait until I apprehend the assassin." He ordered the last of his troopers, "Then capture the older woman as well."

He didn't bother to wait for their acknowledgement. He'd already turned his full attention on the last door. Padme's door. Even this close to her, to any of the house's occupants, he could barely feel their presences. Yoda's protection was obviously powerful, even without him nearby. It would not; however, be protection enough to keep him from taking back his family tonight, regardless of whether the Jedi had been there or not. It certainly saved him some trouble, though. And, he would be grateful for that.

He paused outside the door, staring at it, painfully aware of the loud breathing of the suit. He was also painfully reminded of the last time he'd truly faced his estranged wife. She'd tried to kill him. And, she likely would again. _Force,_ he hoped that he could subdue her before the fight got out of hand. Even better, he hoped that Padme would remember who else was in her little home and just come quietly. Not because he would hurt her, the children, or even his mother-in-law, (he wouldn't) but because their fight could be disastrous. Taking a deep breath, he silently pushed the door open with the Force, entered the room, and softly closed the door behind him, immediately reaching up to take off the helmet, cutting off the sound of his amplified breathing, leaving him in sudden silence in the darkness.

Without the use of the helmet, the room was almost too dark to see anything. Almost. It was clearly the master suite. It was not elegant, like their bedroom on Coruscant, but more homely, much like Padme's room in her childhood home on Naboo had been. Moonlight streamed through the single window onto the spacious bed at the far end of the room, and in the center of that bed…

Padme.

He approached, his boots almost totally silent on the carpet, his eyes transfixed on the sleeping form of his beloved Angel. When he was close, he noticed the lightsaber-_his_ lightsaber-on the nightstand, within easy reach should she be rudely awakened by an intruder…_like me_, he thought dryly. He reached out, calling the weapon silently to his hand, savoring the remembered familiarity of it...and tucked it securely onto his belt, before turning his attention back to his wife. Good. Now, at least, she couldn't kill him with his own weapon when he woke her up.

But, he just….stared, not moving to wake her yet. Now that the time had come, he felt….fear. Right now, she looked like she always did when he'd watched her sleep. Peaceful, with her mahogany curls fanned out across the pillow above her head, wearing a lacy light blue nightgown that he knew, underneath the covers, would hug her luscious curves perfectly. His breath suddenly caught in his throat, and he felt tears well up in his eyes.

She _still_ had it.

There, at her throat, where it had always been since the day he'd given it to her, was the japor snippet he'd carved for her as a child, resting against the upper swell of her bosom. His throat tightened, and the tears stung his eyes. Real. She was real. And alive. It still blew his mind. He'd been at her funeral, _seen_ her dead, seen her holding that snippet in her clasped hands in that open casket...and yet, here she was. Softly breathing, looking as angelic and beautiful as she had the day he'd first met her, all those years ago.

He reached out, slowly, to wake her...and paused. The moment was now. He'd taken her weapon. He'd found her, surrounded her home, and prepared his shuttle and his ship to receive her and their children. Not his mother-in-law, true, but it was an enormous ship. There was plenty of extra room in the apartment suite he'd had prepared for his family. It wouldn't be an issue. Jobal would simply live with them. He had no objections to that. And yet...he couldn't move. He couldn't waken her. The moment he did, he'd be fighting her again, if not physically, then verbally and emotionally. In that moment, he wanted the peace to last forever.

He sighed, dropping his hand, leaning down to brush a feather-soft kiss across her forehead, savoring the warmth and scent of her skin against his own. Oh, how he longed to climb into bed with her and actually make love to her, kissing her deeply, passionately like he used to…A soft groan escaped her lips, and he pulled away, fear tightening in his gut, his hand going to his lightsaber, but… "Anakin…" She mumbled, freezing him in place. Anakin. His name. His _true_ name. The name of the man she'd married. The name of the man she'd fallen in love with. Anakin. Not Vader. But, he was Vader now. She'd have to come to terms with that. Someday. Soon. He needed to wake her up. He needed…But, Padme wasn't done. She rolled in her sleep, turning toward the nightstand, and he felt a jolt in his gut when he heard her whisper, "_Ani…"_

Ani. His old nickname. _Her_ pet name for him.

Before he could do, say, or think anything else, a woman's scream shattered the silence of the night, coming from the other room. _Dammit! _Jobal. He didn't need the Force to know that she'd woken up...or had been awoken by his Stormtroopers. And, with that scream, Padme's eyes snapped open, and she was bolting upright, her hand going automatically to the nightstand where the lightsaber had been….and froze when her hand hit an empty table top. Slowly, her eyes trailed up, until they were staring at one another, both of them unmoving.

Padme was the first to move. Screaming in fury, she launched herself at him, going for his throat, his eyes, _anything_ that could immobilize him. But, with Force-induced speed, he was faster. He ducked out of the way, calling his lightsaber to his hand and igniting it...Blue. Not the red one. He didn't know _why_ he chose it-perhaps to remind her that he was still her husband? No matter. When she saw it, realizing that he'd taken the lightsaber from her, she froze, knowing tactically she was not going to win against him this time. Vader gulped hard, looking at her. She might have recognized her vulnerability in this moment, but the look in those beautiful brown eyes….hatred. Pure, unadulterated _hatred._ Had she been Force Sensitive, the brown might have given way to Sith Gold...he suppressed a shudder at the thought.

"GET. OUT." She snarled, her melodic voice almost unrecognizable.

It was a struggle not to shudder again. It was a struggle to stay composed. The way she looked at him, the way she'd said that…He tried to think of any time she had spoken to anyone that way. Even Nute Gunray...but no. She'd always been cold and composed towards her enemies, moving forward with single-minded purpose. But now...He swallowed thickly, the grip on his lightsaber tightening. If she was this angry, this hateful towards him when she'd never been such towards any of her worst enemies…He suddenly didn't see any way he could convince her to see things his way. Still, he tried. "Padme," He croaked, and he did not sound like Vader at all. "Angel. _Please_…."

That only seemed to infuriate her more.

"Don't call me _that! _You have NO RIGHT to call me that or to even _be_ here! You _forfeited _your rights when you turned on me and tried to kill me! GET THE HELL OUT! NOW!" More cries of alarm immediately rang out from outside the door, this time the sound of terrified children's voices. Both Padme and Vader tensed at that, and though Vader did not take his eyes off of his very belligerent and very angry wife, Padme whirled towards the door, her skin going pale. "What the _KRIFF_ have you DONE?!" She snapped, realizing that he wasn't alone in the house.

"I'm…" He faltered. This was _not_ going at all how he'd planned. He needed to gain control back. He needed to be Darth Vader...not sniveling Anakin Skywalker. "Padme, I'm taking you and the children you neglected to tell me about back home to…"

Nope. That was the _wrong_ thing to say.

The moment he mentioned his knowledge of the children, her expression hardened, her eyes turning almost black with venomous malevolence, her face reddening until he was honestly worried she would explode. But, if he thought she would mention _why_ she hadn't told him of their existence, and _why_ she'd hidden them from him (and would have continued to do so), he was sorely wrong. "_Where,_ Vader?!" She spat the name at him like an epithet, and he visibly flinched. "Your precious ship?! That's _not_ a home, and you damn well know it!"

Vader's eyes narrowed, anger rising now….though not as fast as it usually did, and that was a good sign. He couldn't lose it. Not again. Never again. He swept his free hand in an arc around the room. "And, _this_ place is?! They deserve better than this, Padme! They deserve _everything_ the galaxy can offer them, not some hovel on a backwater planet out on the edge of the Outer Rim! They deserve…"

"You misunderstand. I'm _not_ disagreeing with you." Padme said mockingly, narrowing her gaze at him, crossing her arms over her chest."They _deserved _to be raised safely on their home on Naboo! They _deserved_ to live in a galaxy of peace. They deserved their _father_. But, _you made a deliberate choice to destroy all of that_, and now, I'm left holding the shredded pieces of what once was and doing the best I can to make sure they can, somehow, someday, have at least a peaceful galaxy to finish out their own lives in!" They heard the children wailing and crying now, and Padme snarled, baring gritted teeth at him. "They certainly _didn't_ deserve to be traumatized by YOU and your stupid ass Stormtroopers!" Before he could stop her, she'd turned her back on him and was striding determinedly for the door.

"Padme! Come back here! Don't you _dare_ step outside this bedroom in just that nightgown!" Vader boomed, jealousy starting to flare in his gut. He had no wish for his troopers to see his wife in just her nightgown. Only _he_ had that right.

"Shut the _hell_ up, Vader! YOU don't tell _me_ what to do," she stormed for the door, grabbing the handle, and flinging it open and exiting her bedroom.

Cursing in Huttese at his wife's stubbornness, he quickly snapped the helmet back on before following her out into the hall. His troopers had Jobal apprehended between them, holding onto each of her arms in a vice grip. Though she was shaking, her eyes narrowed on him and she grimaced when he appeared. Yeah, she knew who he was alright. At the moment, he didn't care. He was focused on following his wife as she approached their children, huddling together in their bedroom doorway, crying and wailing for their mom as his troopers stood awkwardly nearby, unsure what to do with them.

"What do you _think_ I'm doing?!" His voice now boomed through the mask, sounding totally wrong and entirely too loud. Luke and Leia jolted at the sound, their wide eyes settling on him and filling with more tears, and they began to cry all the harder. He stopped cold in his tracks at that, realizing exactly how he must look to them, how he must sound-like a monster. He gulped. He longed to take the mask off again...but he was too aware of the Stormtroopers in the hallway. Already, with his blue lightsaber still ignited, and with the conversation happening now, the troopers would have way too many questions. "I'm bringing peace to the galaxy! Or, at least trying to. _Your_ Rebel friends have slowed that process down…"

Padme knelt down, scooping up Luke in one arm, and Leia in the other, cradling them to her chest, their little arms worming around her neck, holding her tight, before whirling on him again, giving him an incredulous look. "What you're _doing_," she hissed with nothing but pure venom in her voice, "is _enslaving_ the galaxy under a cruel, self-serving, power hungry dictatorship! You're _nothing_ more than a slave to the Emperor himself…"

Vader bristled at the words, unpleasant memories surfacing in his mind of his childhood. But, if he was honest with himself, he'd begun viewing himself as Sidious' slave already. He would never admit it out loud, of course. So instead, he pointed to the children in her arms. "_I_ had a right to know about _my_ children." His voice was low and much more menacing than he meant it to be with the mask on. "_I_ have a right to know them now. You and Luke and Leia, and Jobal, are coming with _me!_"

Padme flinched, and he saw horror reflected in her eyes at the realization that he didn't just know they existed, but he knew their _names._ Drawing herself up to her full height, she challenged him, completely undaunted. "YOU have _no_ right to know them!. You aren't even _worthy _to be in their presence!" Luke was visibly shaking in her hold and had buried his face against her, while Leia had stopped crying and was now watching the situation unfold with interest, though he doubted she really understood any of it. "How the _hell_ did you even find us?!"

"_That_ is none of your concern. The important thing is, if _I_ can find you, Sidious can, too. I _must _take you back to my ship, for _all _of your safety!"

"Safety?!" Padme scoffed disdainfully. "Do you even realize _what _you've done to this family?!"

The image of him choking her flashed through his mind again, and he winced. "I'm...I'm sorry, Padme. I didn't….I shouldn't….Mustafar should not have happened…"

"Oh, I'm not even talking about Mustafar; although, that's certainly at the top of the long list of horrible things _you've_ done!" Padme interrupted, seething. "YOU betrayed _me,_ betrayed our marriage, betrayed our _children!_ You betrayed our friends and your colleagues. You endangered mine and the twins' lives! And, you did it _deliberately! _So, yes, that was the initial reason behind the decision to hide from you!" He longed to ask how she'd done it, how she'd faked their deaths when he'd so clearly sensed her death, but she was ranting on now. "I had hoped that there would be enough of the man I loved still left in you to at least spare _my_ family. But, you didn't. Not even _family_ is sacred to you anymore!"

Vader blinked in surprise. What?! What was she _talking_ about? He glanced over to Jobal, who was no longer glaring at him, and was instead staring at the floor, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don't know wha-…" he began, but Padme interrupted again.

"It doesn't matter if it was _your_ orders or your _master's_ orders! The fact remains that less than a week after Mustafar happened, my family's homes on Naboo were raided by Stormtroopers." Vader felt his stomach drop, his limbs turning icy. Suddenly, he had a sick feeling...He wanted her to stop, to keep from saying the truth...Force, he _should_ have checked on them, he should have… "They raided my parent's' home first. My father…" Her voice caught, and he thought he saw tears in her eyes again, but they were gone a moment later, replaced by steely determination. "My father bought my mother time enough to get away, and he was killed. Murdered in cold blood by Stormtroopers in the very home I grew up in, in full view of my mother, who had no idea why any of it was happening."

Breathing hard, she advanced on him a step, the children clutched tightly to her chest. Vader was frozen to the spot, unable to move as the horrifying image of what must have happened to his father-in-law flooded his conscious.

"My sister and her family were attacked mere hours later. Thank the Force my mother was able to send them warning by comm unit first, and they_ barely_ managed to get out alive. My nieces were probably traumatized...Obi-Wan was able to pick my mother up and rescue her, but when he went to try to pick up my sister and her family, they were nowhere to be found. Their hiding place had been found and trashed...and we haven't heard from them since."

Silence filled the hallway, yawning between them. "I don't know if they're alive or dead. My father for sure is dead. And _you._..As far as _I_ am concerned, I don't give a _damn_ if _you_ gave the order or not. But, _you_ and _your actions _made it possible. YOUR actions destroyed our family. Don't even get me started on all of the other millions _\- if not billions - _of innocent people across this galaxy that have been killed either directly by you or because of _your _actions." She shook her head, and this time, angry tears sprung to her eyes and spilled over onto her flushed cheeks. "So, from _my _viewpoint, my husband is _dead!_ And, _you,_ therefore, have _no right_ to even be here. I would rather _die_ than allow you to take us anywhere near your cursed ship. And, hear me now, Vader...I swear, on my father's death, one way or another, this _will_ end in one of us dying, because I have _no_ intention of being subject to you, your master, or your twisted evil."

Staring into her eyes, he knew instantly that she meant every word.

And, it broke - no shattered - his heart to think that his beloved Angel's once so deep love for him would vanish to be replaced by a hatred so deep he almost couldn't fathom it.

But, she wasn't done. She fired one more parting shot that pierced him to his very core, causing pain to rip through him in a surge so powerful, so unexpected it was a wonder it didn't drop him to his knees.

"The only thing I'm thankful for, at this point, Vader, is that dear, sweet Shmi isn't alive to see what you've become. Because, it would've killed her to see you now, like this."

A wave of immediate shame swept through him at the thought of his precious mother, and he swallowed-_hard,_ the pounding his conscience was taking in this encounter more gut wrenching than anything he could've imagined in that moment.

He was still frozen to the spot. He didn't care about the troopers watching...for the first time in two years, he felt…dirty. Wrong. _Evil._ He had no idea…._no idea_ he'd hurt this family so badly…the family he had married into and sworn to protect...and now realized just how fully he'd failed in that endeavor. And, the _hatred_ in Padme's eyes...there was no convincing her. Not by forcing her back to the _Executor_ with the children, at least. He wasn't sure if there would ever be any convincing her now….but…

He shut down his lightsaber. "Let them go." He ordered his troopers, and his gut twisted painfully as he saw his children quiver and flinch at his voice. Force, they were _terrified_ of him. He could feel their terror surrounding him, choking him with its intensity….

"Sir…?" one of the troopers began, hesitatingly letting Jobal go, who looked to Padme in surprise.

"Get back to the shuttle." His voice left no room for argument. He continued to stare at his family, as the troopers saluted and silently did as he bid, filing out of the hallway and back through the house, shutting the door behind them. The sound of the door clicking shut resounded in the quiet stillness of the house like a blaster shot.

Long moments passed. Neither Jobal or Padme moved, while the children continued to cry into their mother's neck. Vader replaced his old Jedi saber back on his belt (no way was he leaving it with his wife), then silently reached up to grasp his helmet and pull it off again. He wanted to look on his children with his own eyes.

Levitating the helmet with the Force, he cautiously stepped closer to Padme and the twins. She flinched but didn't back away. Hesitantly, he reached out with gloved fingers and brushed them through first Luke's golden locks so like his own, then Leia's downy soft riot of curls so like her mother's. He sent soothing vibes through the Force, hoping to calm the children. They cautiously - and curiously, he noted - eased back from their mother just a little and turned to stare at him, seeing his real face for the first time. But, the look of fear still registered in their eyes, and that realization tore into Vader like a Tusken gaffi staff.

Irrefutable truths assaulted him on all sides.

His wife hated him. His mother-in-law hated him. And, his children were terrified of him.

How had it all gone _so_ wrong? How had circumstances conspired to bring them to this impasse?

And, it was an impasse. No question about it. He now realized with absolute finality that taking his family back this way was never going to work. No. He needed to return to his ship and completely regroup, rethink things through. But, first, he owed his family something...

Staring into his wife's eyes, Vader swallowed, and then reached out to gently brush his fingers down her cheek. He was gratified when she didn't jerk away from his touch. When he spoke, his voice was husky and held a note of pleading that was unmistakeable. "Padme, I'm so sorry. I - I had no idea Sidious had ordered such an attack on your family. I'm sorry for Mustafar. I'm sorry for hurting you, our children, and our whole family. I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but...I _do_ still love you, so very much. And, I always will."

She said nothing, simply watched him, clutching their kids closer to her still.

Dropping his hand, he grabbed his helmet, reaching up to place it once more on his head, then he turned and brushed past his wife and strode back through the house, his footsteps heavy. He reached out with the Force and opened the back door - but not before surreptitiously releasing three more of his microdroids inside the house from his tool belt. He might be leaving his family behind tonight, but no way were they not going to be watched and monitored under constant surveillance from here on out, all holofootage being transmitted directly to his personal encrypted channel.

Exiting the house, he closed the door behind him, heading for his ship out in the clearing, his head spinning from what he'd seen, heard, and learned. As he strode up the landing ramp and then turned, heading for the cockpit, he came to one firm decision right then and there. Grabbing his comm, he flicked it to the encrypted channel, waited for it to connect, then spoke when he heard the other end pick up…

"Fett, I have a mission of the utmost urgency...and secrecy...for you. I need you to leave immediately for Naboo…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had Obi-Wan and Yoda leave because with them there, it 100% would have been a fight, and with the twins there in that small house, there wouldn't have been an outcome of them not getting hurt in the very least. I couldn't have that...but have no fear, there will be a confrontation soon. Padme wouldn't fight physically in this situation either, because even with the lightsaber not getting taken back by Vader, meeting Vader on his terms is bad even if you're a force sensitive (Bespin, anyone?). I think she verbally battled it out well though...psh. Senators. ;)  
The song for this chapter is Paint It Black, the rendition being by Ciara. It's my favorite rendition of that song...  
Leave some love!  
Love,   
Ladyvader23


	13. Vader's Planning

_Wham!_

The sound of the door slamming into the wall as it burst open didn't even rattle her.

She didn't even blink. Not really.

Padme was still numb from shock by the time Obi-Wan came crashing through her door. Instinctively, the sound of the door bursting open was enough to get her up from the living room couch where she had been sitting and hugging herself, and had her whipping out the blaster she'd placed at her side and firing at the intruder. Thankfully, Obi-Wan, using Force induced speed, ducked in time...It would have been a useless move anyway. Darth Vader would have ducked away, too. _Any_ Force sensitive would. But, just knowing that she truly was helpless to stop Vader from coming back and taking her and the children back aboard his ship anyway was unnerving, to say the least.

"Padme!" Obi-Wan gasped in relief, as if she hadn't almost blown his head off. "_Thank the Force!_…"

"Where were you?" Her voice was cold, nearly icy in its tone. Colder than she meant it to be...but her entire body felt frozen at the moment. She'd felt hot, like Mustafar hot, when Vader and his blasted Stormtroopers had been in her home terrorizing _her_ mother and children...but the moment they'd left, she'd frozen over, as if she'd suddenly set foot on Hoth. It had been an effort to calm her frightened children down enough for them to go back to sleep...and when they did, they refused to sleep in their own beds. Since she was now on full alert with _no_ intention of falling asleep, like, _ever_, her mother had stepped in and calmly taken over the responsibility, even though she herself didn't look like she wanted to go back to sleep either.

"We were on the other side of the planet." Obi-Wan reminded her grimly, stepping into the living room, his eyes searching it wearily as though the Empire was going to pop out from the shadows and yell "_Surprise!"_ "When we sensed him, we came as quickly as we could." He paused, his eyes settling on her. "Are you alright?"

_Was _she alright? That was a multifaceted question with an equally tortuous answer.

Padme hesitated. "Physically, yes." She answered, honestly. She realized she was still pointing her blaster at him, and she lowered it; though, she did not put it away. Behind her, she heard her mother's door open, and a second later, heard her soft footsteps on the tile.

"Oh, Obi-Wan," her mother breathed in relief, "Thank goodness it's just you. I heard a blaster and…" she trailed off, unable to finish, looking at the gun in Padme's hand.

"We're still clear." Obi-Wan assured her. "I'm sorry to have woken you, Jobal."

Jobal nodded her head. There were dark circles under her eyes. Padme's fists clenched, another wave of sizzling hatred briefly thawing her out, before yet again she froze over. Vader would pay for terrorizing her family this way. Dearly. "It's okay. I wasn't sleeping, but I should go back to make sure the children are still asleep." She gave Padme one last look of concern, her eyes lingering on the blaster, and disappeared back into her room.

They waited to hear the door close behind her before Obi-Wan sighed, leaning against the living room wall. Before he could ask her what happened, a split second later, Yoda hobbled in the door, leaning on his cane, perfectly at ease. "Senator," Yoda greeted cheerfully, as if he hadn't just walked into an incredibly tense situation. "Pleased that you are here, I am."

Padme's jaw clenched tightly, and her eyes narrowed in displeasure. But, she was spared from having to say anything, because Obi-Wan suddenly snapped, "_Pleased?!"_ He echoed incredulously as the door swung shut behind the diminutive Jedi Grandmaster almost of its own accord. "That's a bit of an _understatement,_ wouldn't you say, Master?!"

Normally, hearing Obi-Wan lose his cool around Yoda would have shocked Padme. At the moment, however, she was inclined to agree with him. "Did you know this was going to happen, Master Yoda?!" She demanded through gritted teeth.

"Know? Certainly not. Suspected? Yes." Yoda nodded, his ears bobbing up and down with his movements, pointing the end of his knobbly cane in her direction. "A matter of time, it was, Senator. Once know of your existence, inevitable was Vader's search. Find you, he almost certainly would. Tenacious and determined, he is."

"But, did we have to leave her and her extremely Force sensitive children unguarded when it happened?!" Obi-Wan was as close to yelling as he ever would be. He didn't, though...and Padme wasn't sure if it was because he respected Yoda too much, or if it was because of her sleeping children. Maybe both.

Yoda sighed, hobbling over to a chair and climbing up on it, and Padme was struck anew by the look of exhaustion in his ancient face. Usually, she was so focused on Yoda's immense power in the Force, that she tended to forget that he was almost 900 years old. She was not the only one who had experienced great tragedy in a single lifetime. Yoda settled into the chair, before answering. "Fell, Skywalker did. Not because of evil intentions did he fall. Born from intense love gone awry, Vader was. Bring Skywalker back to the Light, love will." He pointed the end of his cane at her. "Family will...Your family, Senator."

Obi-Wan scoffed in disbelief. "Once a Sith, _always_ a Sith. You've told me that yourself, Master Yoda. No Jedi that has ever turned to the Dark Side has come back from that pathway. Sith are incapable of love. Remember?!"

Yoda paused. "Different, Skywalker is. Born of the Force, he was. Includes all that the Force is, he does-both Light and Dark. The Chosen One, he remains. Capable of love, he was and still is. Knew this, we did. Consider it and protect him from the Dark, we did not."

Obi-Wan still didn't look like he was buying it. Padme just stared at the little green creature, her heart thundering in her chest, a splitting headache starting to take form and pound at her temples. If this conversation had happened immediately after Polis Massa, she would have jumped at the chance to bring her Ani back. But, so much had happened since then, not only for Vader, but for herself. She was no longer the naive senator from Naboo who had willingly believed in and trusted Palpatine and had even given the man his control of the senate in the first place during her time as Queen of Naboo. She had to carry the guilt of that decision the rest of her life. But, what Vader had done...The atrocities he had committed in the last two years...there was no coming back from. Redemption simply wasn't possible. And yet…

"Senator." Yoda interrupted her thoughts, his look for her pointed, his words impacting her like a charged gaffi staff. "You are here, are you not? Take you, he did not."

"Yes, Master." She barely managed to maintain a tone of respect. His words rang true, of course, as shocking as that seemed. Still, she simply wasn't of a mind to process them right now. Her head was hurting. She was exhausted. She'd had one of the most terrifying nights of her life, and she just wanted some peace and quiet to...absorb.

"Why?"

_Why?! He's asking me why?! _Internally, she sighed. _Why_ were things never simple or easy with Master Yoda?

She thought back to the very end of their confrontation in the hallway, right before Vader had left her home. He'd taken off his helmet, that face so familiar and yet not, with his Sith-gold eyes, longer hair, and sunken expression from unhealthy weight loss, his once tan skin much paler now. He'd approached her, slowly, cautiously, and she was so sure this was it, when he'd take her and her children against their will by the Force...but, he hadn't. Instead, he'd gently reached out and brushed his hands through Luke's hair first, and then Leia's. The gesture had calmed them slightly, and the look in his eyes...for just a moment, those gold eyes flickered with their natural blue, as he stared at the twins in pained wonder and longing. Then he'd looked into her own eyes, touching her cheek oh so gently, tenderly, with -dare she say it? - a loving touch. She knew she should have jerked away, knew she should have spat in his face...but she'd remained still, transfixed, unable to breathe, let alone move. For a moment there… as he spoke words that she knew were meaningless, she thought for a moment that her Ani was in there somewhere behind that golden-eyed gaze..."He said he loved me and always would." She said hollowly.

Obi-Wan's expression crumpled into sympathy. "_Padme,"_ He began, almost patronizingly, "You know...you know Sith aren't…_can't_..."

"I _know!_" She snapped, shooting a glare at him.

There was a moment's silence. Then Yoda spoke once more, "Why then, are you and your children still here? Hmm? Consider this fact, you must."

Her mind blanked. She knew better than anyone how obsessive Vader was, how he wanted her and the children and would never let them go. It was what had turned him to the Dark Side in the first place. And yet...Yoda was right. He'd let them go. "For now, yes." She whispered. "He's...trying to gain my trust." That must be it.

"Perhaps." Yoda conceded with a slight nod. "Or awakening, Skywalker finally is."

She hesitated. _Could_ it be…? Her mind thought back to her beloved Ani. To the way he smiled at her on their wedding day, taking her hand with his new metal one, gently so as not to hurt her. How she'd missed him dreadfully whenever he was away. How they stole whatever moments they could away together, even within the confines of her ship as they traveled through hyperspace (he'd been much more careful about leaving his robes lying around after Jar Jar used one to impersonate a Jedi). She remembered the way he laughed, loud and clear and with all of his heart and soul. She remembered his smile, his touch… the way he'd sleep in, exhausted after a long night of lovemaking, and she'd have to wake him up with kisses and teasing pleas to get up and get ready for the day. She remembered their second honeymoon at Varykino when he'd had a ten day furlough, and they had been consumed with passion, conceiving Luke and Leia during that trip.

She treasured each and every one of those memories.

But, she also remembered Mustafar. The Jedi Temple. Order 66. Her family, and countless others all across the galaxy that he had terrorized since that fateful night on the lava planet. No. The man she loved was dead and gone. And, she wasn't going to entertain the idea, the possibility that he was coming back to her, and have her heart broken all over again! "I think that's enough." She said sternly, crossing to the door and opening it. She turned to the two stunned Jedi, glaring at them both. "Good night, Masters." Her voice left no room for argument, as she gestured towards the door.

Yoda sighed, hopped off his chair, and hobbled out, pausing for a moment to look up at her. "Good night, Senator. Protected, you will be." he promised.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I'll hold you to it." She said bitterly. But,Yoda didn't rise up to the bait, and left, Obi-Wan hesitantly following after him, saying nothing else.

She didn't mean to slam the door behind them, but she did. She just couldn't help it. The tight lid on her emotions was coming unhinged. The silence left behind the Jedi's departure was so poignant, her ears rang. Numbly, she crossed back over to the couch and collapsed on it, burying her face into the pillows. She would _not_ cry. She was _done_ crying. She was…

Kriff. She was crying.

She buried her face deeper into the pillows, willing the tears to disappear, but that only seemed to make them worse. She didn't know how long she lay like that before she heard her mother's door open again and shut quietly. Great. She didn't need the Force to know that it was her mother. If it had been her twins, they wouldn't have closed the door quietly.

She didn't move, willing the tears to go away before her mom realized what was happening...but her mom wasn't an idiot. She felt the edge of the couch shift as the older woman sat down on the edge, felt her mom's gentle hands on her back, rubbing gently. "Oh, Padme," Her mother breathed out softly, "I'm so sorry, Dear."

Well. She couldn't hide it anymore. Slowly, she rotated herself so that she was looking up at her mom, sniffling. "Oh, Mama," She breathed, her voice sounding broken, even to her own ears. "How has everything gone _so_ wrong?"

Her mom gave a soft sigh, reaching up to move a strand of hair out of her face. "We don't always choose who we fall in love with, Padme," her mom said softly, "Sometimes, _love_ chooses for us."

Padme was shaking her head, more tears leaking out of her eyes. "I told him once that if...that if we went down this path, it would destroy us. I was right. _Never_ have I ever wanted to be so, _so _wrong before."

Her mom was silent for a moment, watching her daughter, pain in her eyes. There was nothing either of them could do to fix this situation. Even when Vader was dead, or when she was dead, whoever was left alive would be left with a gnawing chasm in their hearts that could never be filled, never healed. Killing Vader _was_ the right thing to do, yes, and yet...it hurt so much to considerate it. A long silence filled the room, as Padme wiped her eyes on her sleeves.

"Do you regret it?" Her mother asked after a while, turning to watch her daughter closely.

Padme paused, the tears stopping for a moment. She'd asked herself that very question multiple times since Mustafar. _Did _she regret ever loving Anakin? For giving in and marrying him in secret? "No." She whispered softly but firmly. "I regret how things turned out, yes. But, I would _never _regret loving Anakin." She wondered if her mother would like that answer. Because of Vader, their family had been ripped apart in almost every way possible. Not to mention the galaxy. But, her mother simply nodded silently in understanding.

After another quiet moment, her mother spoke again, and her words shocked Padme, "I don't think he knew about your father." Her mother stared off into space for a second before turning to look at her daughter again.

Padme frowned. "Of course he did, Mama." She said bitterly, "He's the Emperor's right hand."

Her mother pursed her lips and shook her head, a thoughtful frown on her face. "No. I don't think he did. He seemed...genuinely shocked when you told him what happened to your father and to Sola's family." She said, and hesitated. "And, you know...He did leave. You told me yourself that if he ever found you and the twins, he'd kidnap you and never let you go. And, yet...He did the exact opposite. He walked away."

The tears were gone now. The fact that her mother was echoing the thoughts she'd had earlier, the fact that her mother sounded so much like Yoda...No. She couldn't do it. She sat up, her heart going cold once more. "Anakin's dead, Mom." She said, her tone one of finality.

Her mom paused, hesitant, her look thoughtful. "And...What if he isn't?"

Padme closed her eyes, breathing deeply in, before opening them and staring her mother right in the eye. "If I allowed myself to believe that, and he was ripped from me again," she said darkly, "Then I would truly die."

Not another word was spoken after that before the twins woke up again.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the little family in the small house in the forest, Vader was watching the entire scene unfold from his ship still orbiting Gandle Ott, courtesy of the encrypted holofeed from the microdroids he'd released (and were now hiding in the house) before his departure, and he was considering all that he'd seen and heard.._.very_ carefully.

* * *

_Can we just get this over with already? _He couldn't help but think.

Honestly, how long did he have to kneel here?

The Emperor was silent, staring at Vader with those bone-chilling golden eyes, his blue image flickering over the kneeling figure of his apprentice. Vader waited, making sure that his mental shields were _very_ carefully and firmly in place, as strong...no, _stronger_ than transparisteel. He'd given his report to the impatient...and freakishly paranoid...Emperor the moment he'd entered his audience chamber off the bridge the very second he'd returned to his ship, after Piett had delivered the message to him that the Emperor demanded he make contact with him.

After he'd returned to his ship. Without Padme. And his children…

_No. Stop thinking about them._ He thought, as he strengthened his shields even more as dark tendrils touched his mind, searching. He willed the Emperor to see the truth in his words-that the Assassin they sought was well protected, the most protected of any Rebel operative they'd encountered thus far, hence why he had not found her yet. And, it wasn't technically a lie. She most certainly was well protected...by two of the strongest Jedi Masters on a backwater planet in the Outer Rim that he really didn't think the Emperor would have considered looking on. For that, Vader was thankful. Still, he fed him bits of truth to make it believable.

He'd attempted to bring her down back at the Spire, but she'd narrowly escaped. He'd attempted a tracking beacon, but they'd found the beacon and led him on a wild Loth cat chase across the galaxy using a decoy. So, he was still empty handed. Again, that wasn't strictly a lie, since he'd returned to his ship alone without his family.

Kneeling there, he thought that story so hard, he almost fooled himself into believing it was true...at least that's what Sidious would find in his intentionally weak points in his mental shields.

That he was frustrated, angry, and empty handed. Nothing more.

"Very well, Lord Vader," The Emperor said, and though Vader could hear the displeasure in the wretched man's gravelly voice, he also could tell that the Emperor had other reasons for calling him. At that moment, the Emperor only knew enough about the Assassin to know that she was a danger to the Empire, but _not_ enough of a threat to actually do any real lasting damage. Soon enough, Vader would have her. Or, so the Emperor assumed. So had Vader, up until he'd actually gone down there to her home and been confronted with the reality that the situation was...volatile and overtly hostile to his presence.

Much more so than he'd anticipated at any rate.

And, he had no damn clue yet how he was going to even begin to fix it. He just knew now that forcing his wife onto his ship against her will was not the way to do it.

"I have received a rather disturbing report, Lord Vader."

Oh, Force. What now?

He forced himself to remain calm, to not react. "Yes, my Master?" He questioned through clenched teeth. It had, of course, occurred to him that not only had the Emperor lied to him about his killing of his own wife, but he'd also lied about his children, too. Not that he knew. Force, he hoped he didn't know about his children…but Vader had no doubt that the Emperor knew that he was at least lying to his apprentice about the circumstances surrounding Padme's supposed death. So, since she was pregnant with his child, he'd also, by extension, therefore lied about them, too. That knowledge burned to Vader's very core...and to be back in his presence, even in holographic form, knowing what the old man did, what Sidious had knowingly lied to him about...Just what else had he lied about?

After all, lying was as much a part of a Sith Lord's mentality as hatred.

Vader now had no doubts Sidious lied to him all the time and about a great many things.

His hatred for the man only grew.

"I have received reports that Piett transferred quite a number of men off of your ship to other posts recently." There was suspicion...and annoyance in the man's voice, and his golden eyes narrowed at Vader accusingly. "It was done under _your_ orders, Vader. I'm concerned that you do not have enough men left to man your flagship vessel."

Ahhh...So, that's it you sneaky bastard.

Vader was prepared for this. He'd been prepared the moment he'd given the order in the first place to transfer all staff loyal to the Emperor off of his ship. "They were not satisfactory, my Master." Vader replied smoothly. "You once told me that you did not wish to rule a galaxy of dead men. So, I simply transferred them instead of disposing of them as I normally would." He saw the hesitant pleasure in his master's eyes. Sidious loved it when Vader made a show of following his teachings. Vader's teeth clenched harder. How had he not seen how egotistical and just plain loathsome Sidious truly was? "I will replace them with better soldiers I have interviewed myself."

The Emperor frowned. Vader knew that his master understood the meaning behind the words: He would root out any spies the Emperor would have in place on board. "That would take considerable time, Vader. Time you do not have."

"Even so," Vader replied easily, again prepared for that answer. "I need to know that my ship is in good hands when I am not aboard. I will not tolerate weak links." He paused. "If you wish to suggest any, I would be more than willing to meet with them."

An extension of an invitation. A courtesy. Not a guarantee. If there was one thing Sidious would never fully control, it was how Vader commanded his ship to achieve the Empire's needs. Vader was the best pilot in the galaxy. Nothing and no one would ever take that from him. Even the Emperor.

And, he knew that fact drove Sidious crazy.

"I will think on it." The Emperor relented, which essentially translated into "_I'll find another way to get my eyes and ears on your ship." _It was not unexpected. Vader had no doubt he'd root that out, too. "Find that Assassin, Vader. My patience grows thin."

Vader bowed his head. "Yes, my Master." He waited for the hologram to shut off, and even a few minutes after it had, before he rose, heaved a great sigh, and made his way from the bridge to his personal chambers. Once there, he began stripping the stupid suit off of him, making his way over to his private terminal, where the feed from his wife's home was now playing on four of his multiple screens of data. One showed the exterior of the home from the original microdroid he'd planted in Padme's bag at the Spire. The others from the three microdroids he'd planted not a few hours before.

Suddenly seeing that a conversation was happening between his old master, Obi-Wan, Yoda, and his wife made him throw off the suit faster. By the time he'd wiggled into his black sleep pants and jumped into his chair, almost toppling it over, he saw to his disappointment, that Obi-Wan and Yoda were gone. He didn't know _what_ he would have done anyway-go back down there and fight them? Yeah. Not likely. That wouldn't work out much better than his last trip down there. Still, he could rewind the footage and replay it to listen to their conversation. He had no doubts it would be _enlightening._

But, what distressed him the most was the way his wife collapsed on the couch after they left. He didn't have to see her face to know that she was crying from the slight shake of her shoulders. His stomach dropped, and for a moment he couldn't even breathe as tremendous guilt washed over him. Force...he _hated_ it when she cried. If he had the power to make sure she never cried again…

He paused in his thoughts.

Wasn't that over protectiveness what got them all into this damn mess in the first place?

_No. _A dark voice whispered. He had done what he thought necessary to save her and their children. And yet...there she was. Alive. Crying her heart out from the looks of it, as her mother walked in, sat down next to her, and they began to talk.

He pushed away his inner conflict, leaning forward as her turned up the volume and intently listened to their conversation-about _him._ About what he'd just done. About what he'd become. Each word that was spoken was like a sucker punch to the gut. Over and over again. Padme hadn't ever fully understood _why_ he'd done what he'd done, but it was evident that his actions had caused her a significant amount of pain. Almost as much pain as his belief in her death had caused _him._ To know that his Angel...and his children...had been hurt by _his_ actions...by what he was _still_ doing…

"_Anakin's dead, Mom." _Padme said, and Vader's throat constricted at the words. _He'd_ said that about Anakin Skywalker. He'd insisted on it, not only to his Master, but to himself. But hearing _Padme_ say it...something deep within him shrunk away from the words.

Her mother paused. "_And...what if he isn't?"_

His heart skipped a beat, and he waited for his wife's answer on bated breath. "_If I allowed myself to believe that, and he was ripped from me again, then I would truly die." _She said it so hollowly, so calmly, and yet in _his_ mind they words were like blaster fire slamming into him. She might as well have shot him, like she had sworn to do. Without realizing it, he'd muted the holoscreen, unable to listen to any more. The silence afterwards was deafening, and he stared at the screen, numb.

His wife _truly_ hated him.

The words sank into his mind, his heart, burning his very soul. Hate. Sith...The Sith were supposed to feed off of it. It was supposed to make them powerful. And yet...the knowledge that his beloved Angel _hated_ him...he felt...powerless. Powerless to stop it. Powerless to fix it. Even though he knew that somehow, he needed to. But...how?

He got up, leaving the monitors, crossing over to the viewport, staring out at the vast expanse of space and the planet below. The one his wife and children lived on, protected by two Jedi guardians. Protected from the Empire. From _him_. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, staring down at the planet so hard, his head began to pound.

His wife wanted someone...he no longer was. If he was truly honest with himself, he'd stopped being that person long before he'd sworn himself to Sidious. His entire life had been nothing but conflict, and then war. A war in which he, the so called Chosen One, had been held to expectations he had been pressured to not only fulfill but exceed...though, he hadn't been given the necessary tools to achieve them. The Jedi hadn't had that answer. And, if he was honest with himself...neither had the Sith. He swallowed thickly, checking his mental shields. No, they were strong. He was certain Sidious wouldn't sense his blasphemous thoughts, not all the way out here. Reluctantly, he continued the train of thought.

With the Sith, he was powerful, yes. More powerful than he'd ever been. If he continued down this path, he would continue to gain more power. And yet...he thought of his wife. Of the blame in his mother-in-law's expression. Of...of the stark terror on his children's faces. If he was truly honest with himself, going down this path would bring him further and further away from his family.

And family...even as Vader, family was vital and necessary to him.

He shook his head, his blonde shaggy curls falling across his face. No. There had to be a way. There just had to. He just had to...plan it out. He wasn't a brilliant tactician for nothing. He'd already sent Fett to track down Sola and her family. He had no doubt that the bounty hunter would find them, unless they too had Jedi protecting them...or worse, had been killed in their escape effort. But, from what he'd heard, it was highly unlikely they were under the protection of the Rebels. So, once he found them, he would bring them aboard his ship, play the perfect gentlemanly host as he escorted them personally back to Gandle Ott. He would then contact Padme, invite her to come on board to pick them up (since there was no way he was going back on the planet while the Jedi were there and...not if he wanted to win her trust). He would show her he could be trusted. Then maybe, just maybe…

But no. That wouldn't be enough.

He sighed. He knew Padme. He knew she would take her family home, give him a cold look, and tell him to go back to wherever he kriffing came from. Besides, she wouldn't trust him if those she trusted didn't trust him. Nope. He needed...What he needed was a grand gesture. Some way to get those she was close to to trust him. Which would be hard, if not impossible, given that the imposing suit of Lord Vader was…

Wait a minute.

He paused. He didn't..._need_ the suit. The suit was a symbol of the Empire, a symbol of the right hand of the Emperor. As far as his spies and intelligence had reported, prevalent members of the Rebellion _s_till debated on who, or what, Vader was. Why Padme and Obi-Wan hadn't revealed his true identity yet, he wasn't sure. But, as of right now...the Rebellion didn't know that Anakin Skywalker and Vader were one and the same person.

Ahhh...This could certainly work to his advantage.

He straightened, his breath catching in his throat as an idea began to take form. He could play the role of a double agent. He could be Vader for the Empire...and Anakin Skywalker for the Rebellion. No. Wait. He frowned. He couldn't just waltz in to Rebel command (wherever that was) and announce that he was Skywalker, and he was back from the Purges and was there to help. Not only would that cause a lot of questions and distrust, but at this moment, he was sure Padme would turn him over immediately. Besides, he couldn't just make the grand entrance he was used to making. He would need to be subtle. If the Emperor even got a whiff that Anakin Skywalker was running around helping the Rebellion…his life would be forfeit. And, possibly that of his family, too, if Sidious ever found them.

He didn't realize just how long he stood at the viewport deep in thought.

But, as his eyes glanced over to the screens again, he saw his children were now awake, clinging close to Padme, as she made breakfast at the stove. They were not running around playing like he'd seen them do before. Instead, they were wary, as if afraid _he_ was going to come back and terrorize them. He gulped, trying to think of a way to make this work.

Then… Nightblade. His wife's code name for her assassin persona. The name the Emperor knew her by…She wore a disguise.

A disguise.

_He_ wore a disguise for the Empire. Why couldn't he wear _another_ disguise for the Rebellion? It wouldn't be as elaborate as his suit of armor, of course. And, it couldn't invoke fear. It would need to be easily removable, allow him freedom of movement, but yet, completely hide his face. He'd have to figure it out...He had never been that great at fashion. Padme had always chosen his limited wardrobe (for home or when they did manage to get away together), the Jedi had provided his robes, and the Emperor had ordered the suit. A disguise didn't need to be flashy, but it needed to inspire...What was it? Hope? _Naaah_...He scoffed, rolling his eyes. But, if that's what got those around his wife to trust him, he'd do it.

Then...then when Padme trusted him again, he would use his position to overthrow the Emperor. He would take the throne in the guise of a _temporary_ Emperor, telling the Rebellion that it was only temporary until they could work out the transfer of power back to a new Republic. But instead, he would use that time to convince Padme that _he_ was right. That she could best serve the galaxy at his side. As his Empress. And, their children being his heirs. By then, she would see that _he_ was still hers, and would _always_ be hers, and they could live together again as husband and wife, happily. And, nothing would hurt them again. Nothing.

He smirked, immensely pleased at this idea. There would still be kinks to work out, of course...but a subtle approach to getting her to trust him was his best bet. Yeah, _this _was the answer he needed. He looked at his reflection in the viewport, his grin widening...and he suddenly froze.

There, staring back at him, was a pair of crystal clear blue eyes. Eyes he hadn't seen in two years.

It took him a moment to realize...they were his own. Frowning, Vader stared at the countenance of Anakin Skywalker that reflected back at him in the viewport...And, he couldn't help but wonder…

What did this mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Vader. So stubborn. Then again, both Vader and Padme are a bit stubborn. Hence why they are meant to be,
> 
> The song for this chapter is Landmines by BELLSAINT.


	14. Sandstorm

Idiocy. Lunacy. Folly.

Call it what you will, but she felt compelled to do _something._

Yeah, she'd been spooked. In all honesty, she'd never expected to be found. She thought they were safe, secure, secluded...but they weren't.

He'd found them anyway. Despite all their efforts to the contrary.

And, ever since then, she'd been feeling agitated, irritable, and on edge.

So, she'd decided to _do_ something about it.

Yeah, Obi-Wan was going to kill her. If she wasn't killed on this mission first, that is.

Not that she planned on this mission being particularly dangerous, of course. After all, she'd been on plenty of missions with much higher risks than this one. Like the Spire for example. That particular mission was tantamount to suicide almost. She shook her head. But, she'd always had Obi-Wan at her back, ready to swoop in if things got out of control. No, it wasn't a fail safe...but it was more protection than none. Actually, a Jedi was about the best protection she could ask for in just about any given circumstance. _Plus,_ she thought grimly as she zoomed in with the binoculars on the pirate ship down below, _I usually have Rex and his team with me, too. _This time though, she was alone, on her own...and _no one _knew where to find her. She'd made sure of thatwhen she'd snuck out of the house late at night to go on an unsanctioned, unplanned mission.

_Operation Retrieval._

It was purely a spur of the moment mission. She'd spent a week since Vader's invasion of her home cooped up inside, climbing the kriffing walls, and enduring arguments aplenty between her and Obi-Wan-about where they should go. About telling the Alliance. About training her children to become Jedi. They no longer seemed to agree on _any _point. Obi-Wan thought they should find another hiding place in the Outer Rim. Padme disagreed. She knew Vader would just find them over and over again. No matter where they ran. He'd done it this time. He'd do it again.

Vader was tenacious to a fault. Anakin had been like that, too. Once he set his sights on something, he didn't let _a_nything stop him from succeeding. Seems that hadn't changed with Vader's rise from her husband's proverbial ashes.

And, strangely, for some odd reason she couldn't fathom (or explain), she didn't think Vader would tell the Emperor about their whereabouts or even their existence...but running from that possibility was no longer an option. If Vader really wanted to, he'd have taken them already. Granted, she'd have fought tooth and nail against such a thing, but in all honesty, she knew she wouldn't have prevailed. Not really. Not with all those Stormtroopers present...and not without her lightsaber in hand, which he'd stolen from her, dammit! How dare he take her husband's lightsaber from her! Who the kriff cared if he'd been the one to build the damn thing all those years ago? It was hers now.

And, he'd taken it. It was like having another piece of her Ani ripped from her. Obi-Wan had been livid to find out about that. He'd sworn to build her a new lightsaber, but he would have to go off planet to get the kyber crystal and the necessary parts to build her one, and thus far, he wasn't willing to leave her and the twins and her mother unprotected for any length of time.

Furthermore, Obi-Wan thought they should tell the Alliance what happened, and Padme thought it would cause the Rebellion to mark her as a compromised agent, and she'd be left with no choice but to stay out of their affairs. And now, more than ever, she couldn't sit still and stay at home doing nothing but baking cookies while the galaxy was waging war for freedom from the Empire. Obi-Wan, of course, thought her twins needed to be trained now more than ever in the ways of the Force...and Padme argued that two-year-olds, no matter how gifted in the Force, weren't going to do the galaxy any good at this juncture. What neither of them said, was the unspoken true reason why she refused to let them train: She didn't want them to be taken from her.

And, Obi-Wan knew it.

Then there was Yoda. Though he never argued, anytime he brought up his opinion, he insinuated that all was not as it seemed. As if Vader could be returned to her Ani. Nope. That wasn't happening. At least she and Obi-Wan agreed on that point. Anakin Skywalker was _dead. _The only thing Master Yoda would say was a simple, "_Hmm...See, we shall." _And, he left it at that.

_Sometimes, I just don't understand that little green gnome,_ she thought to herself.

Then the kids were another issue...Her poor precious children. Sweet Luke still had nightmares, and she'd frequently wake up to find him crawling in bed with her. Leia claimed she didn't have nightmares...but she usually followed after Luke anyway. While they normally loved playing outside, and wandering in the forest (with herself, Yoda or her mother supervising, of course) looking for Bob the Frog, they rarely asked to go out now, and if they did, they stayed within easy shouting distance of her. While she was personally relieved they had enough sense to stay close to safety and protection, it also made her furious. They were two! They were meant to be carefree, innocent of the dangers the galaxy beyond them posed. Now, they'd had their first taste of danger...and while they didn't know it, of course, it was from their own father. Though, to Padme's horror, the morning after the attack, Leia had asked her, "_Mama, why bad man 'ook 'ike 'uke?" _(She had trouble pronouncing her L's) Padme had silently cursed Vader in Huttese - and the other six languages she knew fluently - for taking off his helmet in front of the twins, and told Leia he didn't. She wasn't sure if Leia believed her, but she hadn't brought it up again, and Luke didn't seem to have noticed. Thank the Force.

It got to the point where she couldn't stand being in the house anymore. All of the stress, the worry, and the negativity… she needed...she needed...Hell, she needed to _punch_ someone. At the very least. She'd called Mon Mothma, asking to come back early...and had been gently rejected. (She suspected Obi-Wan had had something to do with that particular decision) Though, while they had made pleasant small talk at the beginning of their conversation, Mon had mentioned Rebel supplies being stolen by pirates in the Horuz system, and Padme had gotten the brilliant (insane?) idea to take matters into her own hands after her request had been denied.

It was supposed to be simple: Find the pirates, take back the supplies under cover of darkness, and then fly the supplies to the nearest Rebel cell base and get back home. Easy. Piece of Alderenian fig cake. And, once she'd arrived in the sector, it had been easy to find out where the pirates were rumored to be hiding, from the locals. A group of Weequay's...At first, she'd wondered if it was Hondo's gang, but as it turned out, that wasn't the case, to her actual disappointment. It would have been simpler to deal with Hondo as, based on the stories Anakin and Obi-Wan had told her, he was known to be...reliable. Sometimes.

Now, here she crouched, hidden in a tree, watching their movements, her comm turned off so she could properly ignore the millions of calls Obi-Wan and her mother were probably making to her at this very moment. Yeah, she'd left a note. She would be fine. She was quite the skilled assassin now, after all, and so far, she hadn't seen anything at the little forest base that would make her assume she'd need any kind of back up. Fortunately, it was a small pirate cell, and they were loading what looked to be the Rebel supplies into a small, unremarkable cruiser. Oh yeah, this would be easy.

She'd be home before she knew it.

Though, she thought with a scowl, her hand going to the blaster at her hip, she wish she had more weapons with her. Specifically, her lightsaber. Even when she got her new one, she wasn't sure how she'd feel about it. It wasn't...it wasn't _Ani's_. She scowled once more just thinking about it, putting the binoculars away. Vader likely wouldn't give it back...not unless she killed him for it. But, taking the lightsaber back was the least of the many reasons why she needed to kill that man.

With each passing day, the Empire's atrocities against the galaxy grew...as did her list against Vader.

She waited until cover of darkness, watching as the platform was cleared into the ship. Soon, it appeared that most of the pirates had retreated into their little base, leaving only a few guards at the ramp to the ship. She smirked.

Too easy.

She dropped from her perch, landing softly, quietly on the earth, pulling her blaster from the holster at her side. If she played her cards right, she thought, creeping forward, sticking to the shadows, as she climbed down the hill towards the platform, she could sneak into the ship and be out of there before the guards even had a chance to retaliate. _Or_, she thought mildly, stepping onto the platform, peering at them, _I could just kill them and be out without any alarms raised at all._ Honestly, that was probably the _better_ option. With a sigh, she crept forward, almost completely silent as she approached from behind. The two Weequay's were discussing something quietly to one another as she silently holstered the blaster again and pulled out two daggers. Again, she wished she had Anakin's lightsaber as she struck quickly, slicing their necks, cutting off their conversation with a spray of blood. The two thumped to the ground, dead.

Pleased that she wouldn't be interrupted, she turned, running up the ramp. She was clear-just steal the ship and get home free…

Problem was, the ship wasn't exactly empty as she'd expected. Instead, she ran into about fifteen pirates with blasters already pointed right at her. She slid to a stop, her hand going to her side for her lightsaber...to meet an empty belt.

Kriffing Vader.

One of them stepped forward, tsking. "Shame, poppet, that yeh had to go an' leave a bloody mess." He motioned behind her, indicating the dead guards beyond. When Padme said nothing, just stood there, frozen, weighing her options and finding them basically non-existent, the pirate asked innocently, "What? Yeh didn' think we'd hear yeh've been snooping around, tryin' to find our humble band o' pirates?" The other pirates sniggered. Padme had no doubt they'd want nothing more than for her to try something stupid so they could kill her. "Drop the weapons, dearie."

For a moment, Padme had the irrational urge to try to kill them anyway. But, she wasn't stupid. Without a lightsaber, and with fifteen blasters pointed at her by trigger happy pirates, she wouldn't last a second. She was screwed. Very, _very_ screwed. She glared at the pirates, and unholstered her blaster, the daggers, and her various types of grenades. The moment she did, two pirates stepped forward and roughly grabbed her arms, forcing her to her knees, hitting the metal floor of the ship hard. "You'll regret this." She warned as the pirate who'd spoken (maybe the leader, she wasn't sure), approached her. "I have powerful friends. If I don't report soon, you'll have an army at your door." It was a lie, of course. A bluff. No one knew where she'd gone. Force, she should have brought Obi-Wan. Or hell, Rex.

And, if she got out of this alive, she was going to get an earful from every direction about undertaking something this suicidal. Without any backup.

The pirate smirked as if he saw through her bluff. Then, to her horror, he reached out, slipped the hood off of her head, and then reached for her mask, pulling it off. Padme's entire body clenched as she watched for any sort of recognition in the pirate's eyes. It was highly likely they didn't know who she was-this far out in the Outer Rim, news from core planets would be scarce and the likelihood that anyone cared about a former Senator from Naboo (especially a so-called dead one), would be pretty slim. To her marginal relief, it didn't seem like the pirate leader (or any of the others either) recognized her. That, at least, was one good thing in this mess. "What's a pretty little thing like ye doin' _way_ out here?" The pirate leader mused, "An' wha am I supposed to do with yeh now?"

"Release me." She said, with more confidence than she felt. That got some laughs from the pirates, and her heart hammered erratically against her rib cage. How to get out...how to get out… "If you allow me to return with the supplies you stole, I can assure you the benefits will be greater than anything else. And, you won't end up dead."

The leader snorted. "Wha that'll do is get a knife stuck in me back, I'm sure." He tilted his head, considering her. "I'm sure yeh don' wear the mask fer no reason. I bet the Empire'll pay a pretty penny fer you." Padme's heart sank further at those words. Oh, she'd been so, _so_ kriffing stupid to come here alone without help. The leader inclined his head to the pirates holding her. "Bring her to the brig. I'll contact the Empire."

It was a struggle to keep a level head as she was dragged into their base, past more pirates than she'd noticed during the day time. For such a little base, there were a helluva lot of them in there...and all of them looked heavily fortified. As she was dragged through a mess hall, some of them were admiring a Z-6 rotary blaster cannon, and she figured, based on that, they were more heavily fortified than she'd initially thought they would be. This, she thought scornfully as they tossed her rather roughly in a cell on the basement level, was just one more reason why she should have brought Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was always investigating every possibility, preparing for the worst. He didn't jump headlong into the fray. But, after all, she had married a Skywalker. And, Skywalkers were not known for their patience. Now, however, if she didn't get out of there fast, she'd be turned in to the Empire, and while these pirates didn't truly know the value of the prisoner they held, it wouldn't take the Emperor long to figure out who she was. And that, was something she could not allow. She had a feeling that the Emperor would not let her go as Vader had.

As soon as the pirates had left her alone in her cell, tossing her mask and weapons onto a table at the end of the prison, Padme leapt into action. Many things had changed since that fateful night on Mustafar, but Padme's preparedness for situations such as _t_his had not. Reaching down into a hidden sleeve inside her boot, she pulled out her trusty pins. She smirked. For whatever reason, whenever she'd been captured, none of her captors had bothered to check her boots for anything she could use to escape. Or her hair. Sometimes, with the right hairstyle, she could hide the pins in there, as she had done on Geonosis. Hence, her ability to escape. Always. Though, how she'd make it through all of those pirates without getting caught - or worse killed, she had no idea. Yet. Without her lightsaber...she was good, but the edge she'd learn to wield over her adversaries was gone. She'd have to make do.

Fortunately for her, she was known for being a master of improvisation.

It took longer than she would have liked to spring the lock. It was more complicated than she initially thought, but after much patience and determination, not to mention muttered swearing, she heard the satisfying click that indicated she'd unlocked it, and she gently pushed the cell door open with a groan that made her freeze and cringe, listening for the approach of suspicious pirates. After a few moments of silence, she breathed a sigh of relief, as she rushed over to the table to begin re-outfitting herself with her weapons and mask.

"Guess you didn't need saving after all."

The voice was deep and amused, and it came from the shadows to her left. She reacted on pure instinct. She grabbed her heavy Corellian blaster and whirled, pointing it at the intruder. But, who she found was not at all who she would have expected: She'd expected a pirate, or, in her surprise, an Imperial (which wasn't logical since they couldn't have gotten there so fast). Instead, she found herself looking at a rather muscular masked man, who immediately raised his hands in surrender. "Whoa there," his voice came through a metal black mask that covered the bottom half of his face, much like her own did, except his had a voice modification device attached somewhere in it. At least, that's what it sounded like. It was too deep and metallic sounding to be anything near natural. "At least you could thank me for attempting to rescue you before blowing my head off. Don't you think?"

Padme frowned, frozen to the spot, taking him in with a sweep of her gaze. He was dressed almost similarly to her: With a hood that cast his eyes in shadow, a black leather form-fitting tunic, black pants with a black leather belt, and black knee-high boots with black leather gloves covering his hands...and something hanging from his belt. If she didn't know any better, she'd say the guy had deliberately dressed to match her. "Well, I don't need saving, as you can see." She said sarcastically, "Who the _hell_ are you anyway?"

He splayed his hands out wide innocently. "Just a friend." She shifted the gun a little higher, her arm steady - and her aim straight at his head, and he quickly added, "You can call me Sandstorm."

She stared at him in utter disbelief, her eyebrows shooting up and her eyes going wide. "_Sandstorm?!"_ She echoed incredulously. "What kind of person goes by a stupid name like _that?_"

His voice, even through the vocoder, was amused,"The same kind of person who goes by the name of _Nightblade, _milady._._" Her grip tightened on her blaster in annoyance, and he seemed to notice that. In fact, he seemed hyper-aware of her every movement, her every breath even. "It's not hard to figure out who you are, Madam. Most people don't run around dressed like...Well. _Us._ And you _were_ targeting these pirates for the shipment they stole from the Rebellion, right?"

When she didn't answer, he sighed through his mask. "It's not a secret in these parts that the shipment was stolen. And, most of the Outer Rim worlds are beginning to talk about an assassin for the Rebellion named Nightblade. I took a wild guess." He cocked his head, watching her. "Though, I guess I could always mention what other name you go by…"

She realized, then, that her hood was still down, and she'd yet to put on the mask. He needed to die. Now. "Well, I _can't _have that secret being slipped out to the entire Galaxy…" she began, and he laughed, startling her more. Who the hell _was _this guy?

"Oh, don't worry, your secret is safe with me." He reached down to his belt, and she jerked the gun forward in warning. He paused, his hand hovering over the object on his belt. "Relax. You aren't the _only_ one who is supposed to be dead, y'know. I'm a Jedi." A _Jedi?!_ Padme thought, even more incredulous, as sure enough, the man calling himself Sandstorm pulled out a lightsaber and ignited it with a snap-hiss, the blade glowing bright azure blue in the darkness. For a moment, she saw blue eyes under the hood...but nothing else to give her a good indication of who the man was. She tried to get a glimpse of the hilt of the weapon, but it was wrapped in black leather, naturally, obscuring it.

She did not lower her blaster, but she didn't make any moves to attack either. If he wasa Jedi, shooting at him would just be pointless. "You're supposed to be dead."

Another cock of the head, another amused reply. "So are you." Damn that vocoder. She'd met most of the Jedi during her time as queen and senator...many of whom had blue eyes. And, were human males...at least she thought he might have been human. And, had blue blades. Hell, she'd even known a couple who had added leather to the hilt of their lightsabers because it supposedly gave them a better grip on it.

"You know having that lightsaber doesn't proveyou're a Jedi." She pointed out, logically, with a quirk of her brow.

"True. I'm hoping you drop that blaster and allow me to prove it to you by assisting your full escape from this den of scum and villainy." He sounded more amused than he had any right to be. But, if he _was_ telling the truth, and was either a Jedi or at least trained in the art of the lightsaber as she was, he would block any shot she took at him. Or, the pirates took at him.

She hesitated. If he was a Jedi, then it would mean a _lot _not only to the Rebellion, but to Obi-Wan and Yoda. Even more immediate, she would definitely get out of there in one piece. But, if he was lying and this was some sort of trick… "Why are you here?"

"In this room? At this base? Or both?" When she shot him a glare, he replied, "I was here because I too heard about the stolen shipment. Like I said, it isn't a secret in these parts. When I arrived, I saw you get dragged into the base and, well..." he shrugged his broad shoulders. Force, she hadn't realized how tall he was. "I wasn't about to leave you to your fate. I did, after all, used to be a Jedi. Saving people is sort of what we do. Well, did. So, I snuck in here after you and…" he waved his hand to indicate them, "the rest is history."

She still didn't move. It was a gamble, trusting a masked person she didn't know. Maybe he was one of those Inquisitors she'd heard about, and he was working for the Empire. Maybe, he'd decided to do his own thing and was only out for himself, like a smuggler. If Obi-Wan were here, he probably wouldn't have trusted the man named Sandstorm. But, what choice did she have? She was one person against many...too many without a lightsaber of her own...and if this man was who he said he was, it would certainly level the playing field. Finally, she came to her decision and lowered the weapon. "My name is Nightblade." She said firmly, warning in her voice: Call her any other name, and she'd put a blaster bolt through his head, Jedi or no. She holstered her weapon and proceeded to put back on her mask and hood.

He seemed to have gotten the message, based on his smirking reply, "Well, better get ready, Nightblade. We've got a ship to take back."

* * *

What the _hell _was she thinking in doing this?

Honestly, being foolhardy was never one of his wife's traits, but somehow, in the last two years, she'd developed it. He shook his head in exasperation, watching as she dashed up the stairs.

He'd already sensed at least fifteen pirates waiting for her through the Force when he'd arrived at the scene. He'd watched, impressed in spite of his irritation, as she ruthlessly dispatched the two guards at the base of the ramp.

_Impressive. Most impressive,_ the Dark Side whispered to him. Still, he couldn't deny a niggling sense of… What? Outrage?...No, shocked disbelief that his sweet, caring, pacifist wife who _abhorred_ violence...had turned into such a cold-blooded killer.

Even so, she was smart enough to know she'd _need_ backup. Especially for something of _this_ nature.

_How could she be so unbelievably reckless?!_ Vader thought furiously for about the billionth time, as he followed Padme up the stairs towards where the first set of guards had stood. The room beyond would still be full of pirates...heavily armed pirates. Hell, even for a Force-sensitive taking on a band of pirates was a challenge by themselves. Even with Padme, as skilled as she now was, fighting at his side, and without the use of the Dark Side, he was going to have trouble getting them both out of this mess. But, he couldn't resort to using the Dark Side, not as Sandstorm. He couldn't help mentally swearing in Huttese at that. Yeah, even Sith Lords get frustrated.

But, he sighed, it was necessary for his ruse.

Padme knew enough about the Force to spot its use...and the moment he used it, his eyes would turn Sith yellow again, and then all of his carefully devised plans would be ruined. Not that he'd planned on enacting his grand plot so soon, but when he'd woken up one morning and checked on the holofootage to find Obi-Wan and Jobal freaking out about a note Padme had left behind...well, it didn't take much for him to rewind the footage, see her sneak off in the middle of the night, and...well, the droids didn't follow her beyond the property. The only reason he'd figured out where she was going was because he'd listened in on the conversation between her and Mon Mothma and overheard about the stolen Rebel shipments.

If he hadn't had his droids watching her, he fumed silently, his teeth grinding behind the mask, she would have been killed. Probably. Most likely. But, even taking that risk, when she had their twins waiting for her at home, was a stupid one! He longed to take her by the shoulders, shake some sense into her, and demand to know what in the _kriff _had possessed her to come out on this mission?! And, alone with no backup?! Without even telling anyone?! But to do so would again, not only blow his cover, but it would also alert her to the fact that he was keeping a very close eye on her and the kids. _Not _a conversation he wanted to have in the middle of a band of pirates. Thank the Force that he'd ordered Piett to procure this disguise immediately after he'd decided on this course of action; otherwise, he wouldn't have been ready to jump in and help her.

Still, if he was honest with himself, being next to her, ready to face a horde of enemies...it was like old times...Exhilarating and intoxicating. Padme, the fierce love of his life who, despite her seemingly delicate upbringing as a queen and then a senator, was a bit of a warrior herself with nerves and a spine of durasteel. He, her Jedi protector, sworn to give up his life if needed to protect her, not just because he'd been a Jedi, but also because he loved her with every fiber of his being. They had made quite the duo, a unified team, despite their many differences. Things had obviously changed, though. He wasn't a Jedi anymore, only pretending to be one. She wasn't a senator any longer, but rather an assassin. A very lethal and efficient one at that. And, they weren't just looking out for each other for the other's sake, but now their children's sake. But despite that, he couldn't help but look at the back of his wife's hooded head and smile.

Even as his eyes moved slowly down her delectable figure to check out her _very,_ ah, attractive behind, and for a split second, as he watched her hips sway so sensually as she walked ahead of him, a predatory and feral grin spread on his lips, and he felt that familiar _tightening_ flare to life in his body that only _she_ inspired in him.

_Stop that,_ he chided himself, willing his body to calm down, as they reached the door, _You are not Vader, or even Anakin Skywalker: Right now, you're Sandstorm, a hidden Jedi, and if you're going to do this, you _can't _be checking her out every five seconds! Even if she _is _your wife. And, hot as hell in that skintight outfit. And, the most amazing woman in the entire galaxy_….

"Okay," She whispered, totally oblivious to the thoughts running through her companion's head, and thankfully breaking off his rather amorous train of thought. She turned to him, her blaster in hand. "We go in blasting. I need to get to the Z-6. I assume you're familiar with it?"

He rolled his eyes and gave her an '_of course I do'_ look, but the effect was ruined by the mask and hood, and the dim lighting in the stairwell. "I served in the Clone Wars, just as all the other Jedi. Yes, I know the gun." Force, it was strange to have yet another vocoder changing his voice. He'd installed one in the mask that wouldn't sound like Vader, but it still changed his voice to where she wouldn't recognize it.

In the dim lighting, he could barely see her dark eyes peeking out over the mask. "Good. I also assume you'll be able to get me over _there?_" She pointed forward, indicating where they were headed.

"With my eyes closed, milady." He couldn't help it. He should have been serious, especially since their lives were at stake here, but being in her soothing presence...his shields dropped, and he couldn't help but tease her. Force, it felt so good to tease her again. It felt so good to just be with her again...even if she didn't know it was him.

Padme didn't seem amused by his joke, for she rolled her eyes and turned back to the door. "After you, Master Jedi." She didn't say it like she used to, with a slight tease in her voice. She was dead serious, all business, and he had to push down the irritation that instantly rose up in his chest. _Gain her trust, _he thought over and over again, _Gain her trust._ He stepped forward, took a deep breath, and kicked the door open, igniting his lightsaber and leaping into the room, cutting down the two guards. He sensed Padme right behind him, firing shots into the crowd of stunned pirates, killing at least four before they seemed to fully understand they were being attacked and ducked for cover.

Soon, blaster bolts were firing on both sides, and he easily reached into the Force to block himself and, more importantly, Padme as she began making her way towards the pirates with the Z-6...who thankfully couldn't seem to get the gun properly loaded. He smirked under his mask. Idiots. These pirates were lucky he wasn't currently playing the role of Vader. They would have all been dead in seconds, crushed like maggots with just a flick of his wrist and a curl of his fingers.

Beside him, Padme fired shot after shot, each of her shots aiming true. He couldn't help but be impressed-she'd always been a fantastic shot before...before everything happened. Now, she was a true Ace with absolutely deadly accuracy, and she showed no mercy to the panicked pirates.

What a woman, and to think, she was _all_ his. _Well, she was and very soon will be again, _he smiled to himself, his grin once more feral under the mask_._

It wasn't long before he got her to the pirates with the gun, and with one easy sweep of his blade, he sliced them in half, the gun tumbling and caught by Padme. He shifted the saber easily, fluidly, in his hand again, deflecting more bolts, savoring the feel of his old blade in his hands. Oh, he hadn't realized how much he'd missed this lightsaber! Somehow, it felt lighter in his hands, more at harmony with the Force around it. He liked his other lightsaber just fine, of course-the crimson color of the blade was pretty cool. But, nothing could compare to his lightsaber, and it felt right having it back in his hand, wielding it to protect and defend once more.

Padme seemed to think the same thing about the Z-6. With a few expert maneuvers (she again surprised him with her skill and knowledge of weaponry), she had the gun locked and loaded and ready to fire. "MOVE!" She shouted, and he quickly ducked to the side, as she let lose a barrage of red lasers into the band of pirates, mowing them down, almost like she was at a shooting gallery, destroying their cover, sending many of them running for the door. He stayed diligently by her side, blocking any who dared shoot her way, and as she pressed forward, so did he. They were the perfect pair-Padme on the offense, him on the defense, until finally the remaining pirates began to turn tail and run.

"Oh," Padme said, as she paused on the gun fire. Vader turned to look at her, arching his eyebrows under his hood, and though he couldn't see anything but her beautiful dark brown eyes, they were alight with eagerness and...dare he say, _exhilaration_. "I _like_ this gun." She raised it up a little, a fierce determination flaring to life in those chocolate depths, and began firing once more, almost gleefully, into the retreating pirates.

Vader smiled. A true, wild smile. She may have been insane for going after these pirates by herself, true...but by the Force, the woman knew her way around a gun. And, it was getting him _all_ hot and bothered just watching her. It wasn't the first time she'd turned him on during battle (the first being at Geonosis when she'd quipped the "_aggressive negotiations"_ line back at him so cheekily), and he seriously doubted this would be the last time.

At that moment, pirates be damned, he wanted nothing more than to pick her up by her thighs, press her firmly back against the wall with the weight of his body, and kiss her senseless right there...and maybe even more. They'd certainly done _that _many times before. But, unfortunately, he didn't think she'd changed that much to find making out in a sea of corpses sexy, and they still weren't done with the pirates. So, setting all romantic notions aside from his mind, onward they pressed, out of the now torn apart base and onto the landing pad, where the pirates were racing towards the supply ship. "Oh no you don't," He snarled, "If we don't want to miss our ride, we'd best drop the gun and take them out at close range. Quick."

"Well, you must be a Jedi, because you read my mind." She said sarcastically, and she dropped the Z-6 to the floor with a thud, before both of them sprinted to the ship. Sensing that the machine gun had stopped, some of the pirates attempted to take cover within the ship, poking out of the ramp opening when they thought it was safe to fire on them. Again, Vader blocked them easily. How were people so stupid? He wondered-didn't they know that if they couldn't stop him when they were at full force, they weren't about to stop a Jedi when there were only a few left?

Wait...not Jedi. Sith. He was a Sith. He needed to remember that.

Apparently, the pirates didn't get the memo, and they continued to fire uselessly. One even threw a grenade, but Vader quickly Force-pushed it out of the way, careful to keep the ship undamaged, as it exploded in midair way off to their right. They reached the ramp, and with a clear shot, Padme dispatched more of the pirates while Vader blocked, until there were only two left, cowering behind one of the crates. Vader stalked forward, Padme close beside him, and Vader reached out and Force pushed the crates away, leaving the pirates exposed. They stared at them with wide, frightened eyes, and though Vader moved forward to finish them, Padme held up a hand, stopping him. "Nightblade," Vader warned as she moved forward towards them, but she ignored him, much to his annoyance. Still, he honored her wishes, despite his deep desire to jump forward and pull her behind him, back to safety. He couldn't help it. He _was_ still her husband, even if _she_ didn't know that, and it was his job, his duty to protect her. Always.

"I told you that you'd regret this." She said softly to one of them, whose eyes were so wide Vader was sure they'd pop out of his head. She raised her blaster to his forehead, her voice switching to Hothan ice in a split second. "Who did you contact? What did you tell them?"

The pirate trembled so hard, it was a wonder he could stay upright. "N-no one, I didn' c-c-call n-no one, communications were j-jammed, I swear!"

"Ah." Vader said, shrugging his shoulders. "That would be my fault." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the jamming signal he had modified for situations such as this one. He'd had a feeling that if the pirates knew Padme, or they knew she was a Rebel operative, they'd attempt to turn her in to the Empire. He couldn't have Sidious finding out about the survival of his wife, or Force forbid, his children. He'd die before that happened. So, he'd come prepared. As usual.

Padme cocked her head at the pirate. "Good."

"I-I swear to tell no one, milady, I…" the pirate began, but he never finished. To Vader's utter surprise, Padme shot him, without compunction, and then, before his partner could utter a word of protest, she shot him too, and the ship fell silent.

To his amazement, despite his own record of ruthlessness and cruelty across the galaxy, Vader found he was actually disturbed by this same behavior from his wife. It wasn't like her to kill mercilessly, without any remorse. Yes, she'd killed before...both during the Nabooian invasion by the Trade Federation...and during the Clone Wars, but those circumstances were completely different from this.

This was cold blooded and calculated. And, he couldn't hide the surprise in his voice, even through the vocoder.

"I, uh, didn't think you'd actually _kill _them." He admitted after a moment of silence.

Padme sighed, her shoulders slumping a little, as she continued to stare at the dead pirates before them. "I'm not a Jedi, Sandstorm. I'm an _assassin._ Killing for the Rebellion is my job. It's what I do. I have...important things I need to protect." His mind strayed, as it often did these days, to their twins. He had a feeling she was talking about them. "I'm not about to trust pirates to keep my secrets." She turned to him, her eyes boring into his. "I'm not even sure I should trust you with it. I don't even know who you really are."

Vader forced himself to stay calm and casual. He'd gotten good at lying since he'd become a Sith. It wasn't just about words, but also tone of voice, gestures, even body language. He felt certain, however, that she wouldn't kill him like she had the pirates. In _her_ mind, he was a Jedi, and Jedi were the good guys, in her eyes. "Understandable," He admitted coolly, leaning against the side of the ship. "But, I too have important things I must protect." _Like you, my Angel, and our children, _he added silently to himself. "I too have to do what I must to keep them safe." He shrugged again. "Perhaps someday I'll reveal my secret. If I decide _I _can trust _you._"

He could practically feel Padme frown from behind her mask. Her eyes narrowed. "How did you escape Order 66?" She asked, her voice suspicious. Naturally. He'd expected this. And, he had a ready answer for her. His was nothing if not meticulous in his planning.

"I was assigned to a secret mission." He explained, though of course he'd made it all up: based on fact, of course. There had been plenty of Jedi who fit the description he was telling her. "I only had two clones with me. They were relatively easy to escape from." he paused for a moment, making it sound believable. "Unlike my brothers and sisters, who were surrounded by entire squadrons of them." He said this softly, looking away from her, as if thinking back to the night it had happened.

There was a silence. Then, "I'm sorry." She sounded like she meant it, too. "Where have you been all this time? Did you get Master Obi-Wan's message?"

Vader scowled behind the mask at the mention of his old master's name. "Yes, I did." He said, gravely. It hadn't taken them long to find out he'd changed the message to all of the Jedi, warning them to stay away from Coruscant and the Temple and to go into hiding across the galaxy. It had certainly made his job much more difficult...but now, it gave him an excuse. "I was hidden. I strayed from planet to planet, always looking over my shoulder to make sure the Empire hadn't caught up to me. It...gave me an opportunity to witness the brutality of the Empire first-hand. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, and I was looking for a way to introduce myself to the Rebellion. I heard the talk about this stolen shipment and figured it couldn't hurt if I introduced myself after delivering back their stolen goods."

For a long while, Padme studied him, as if measuring every bit of his story, looking for any flaws in it. His wife wasn't an idiot. Far from it, and he willed her to believe it. To believe him. Finally, she seemed satisfied that he wasn't lying, giving him a quick nod of her head. "Fine, Sandstorm, or whatever your name is. You've got your invitation." She held out her hand for him to shake. "To the Rebellion, but not it's leaders. Not yet. Even the Rebellion's top leaders know who I am, so until you're ready to reveal your identity to them, I have no interest in bringing you to them. Understood?" He took her hand and shook it, nodding his head. Fair enough. He'd honestly expected that. Most importantly, he was in. Darth Vader, the sworn enemy of the Rebellion, had just infiltrated it...and by the time he was done, Sidious would be dead, along with the last of the Jedi, he'd have the Empire firmly under his control, and he'd have Padme and his children back home, safe and happy with him, where they belonged. "Now, are you going to help me shove these bodies out of this ship so we can get out of here?"

He grinned behind the mask, pleased at his handiwork. "Right away, milady."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, this is my Beta's favorite chapter. I enjoyed writing it-having Vader and Padme be sexy badass killers is ALWAYS a win for me. But I'm not sure if I'd call it my favorite chapter...especially for what's to come (seriously). So I'm curious to hear what ya'll think.  
The song for this chapter...and frankly the entire story... is Woman by Wolfmother. If you haven't listened to that song...do it. It's one of my favorites, and when first coming up with this story, it was the song that played over and over again in my head. It's a huge inspiration for this one.   
Leave some love!   
Love,   
Ladyvader23


	15. Family Reunion

Success! Thank the Force.

He'd found them. The sense of relief he felt sweep through him was both surprising...and welcoming. They were safe. That was all that mattered for the moment.

And, the ones responsible for this travesty would be on the receiving end of Vader's brand of..._justice_. After all, this was for his wife...for their family, and Vader would do anything for her and for them.

He just hoped, when all was said and done, that Padme would understand that.

Vader was pleased. More than pleased. Fett had done his job, and done it well. As usual. At least, that was what Vader thought when he finally managed to leave the grateful rebel cell Padme had brought him to and had found a message from the bounty hunter waiting for him on his personal channel: The job was done, and he was headed back to the _Executor_ to drop off the package and get paid. Padme had departed shortly after they'd arrived and she'd introduced him to them, a cell with little to no importance really, in complete disarray compared to some of the other rebel factions Vader had gone up against. But, he'd played the part of a noble Jedi to the hilt, helped them unload the ship, and as soon as he had explained his desire to be '_independent' _due to the need to remain '_hidden from the Empire'_, and had at least gotten their contact information if he wanted to come back and help, he'd left and flown back to his original shuttle, and gotten the message then.

So, it was with great eagerness-and trepidation-that he headed back for the _Executor,_ pushing his shuttle to the limits of its speed capability to get back.

This was it.

While he was playing the part of Sandstorm, the mysterious Jedi, he would also be attempting to win back his wife's favor as Vader, so that when the moment came to reveal himself and his intentions at last, Padme would see that he was still the same man she loved and married. Fett's mission would be the start of that, and he couldn't wait to see the look on Padme's face. Even if it was from secretly taped feed-it would still be worth all of the secrecy, all of the risk, just to make her happy again. And maybe, if she was happy again, she'd actually listen to him, and they could be together, Emperor and Empress of the galaxy.

Just like they should be.

He came out of hyperspace just outside of the _Executor,_ and he immediately opened up his secure channel and called Piett, who answered immediately. "_Lord Vader."_ He said, a small miniature of the prim man appearing on his console.

"Has the bounty hunter arrived yet?" Vader demanded, his grip tightening on the console. If something happened on the way to his ship...it was highly unlikely, true. It _was_ Boba Fett, after all. He was the best in the entire galaxy. But, that didn't that mean accidents didn't happen, and if he lost them again…He didn't know _how_ he'd tell Padme. Or, her mother. They'd already had so much to grieve over with the death of his father-in-law, Ruwee, and Sola's family missing - all on Sidious' orders.

And, Sidious would pay dearly for targeting and attacking the Naberries. Vader would see to that _personally._

"_Yes, Lord Vader, and he is waiting in your private wing with the package."_ Even though the line was encrypted with the best encryption the galaxy could offer, Piett was still smart enough not to divulge anything too important over comm. Just in case. Which is what made him such an excellent officer and partly why he was Vader's second-in-command. Vader trusted the man implicitly.

"Good. Clear the floor of all personnel, and prepare Fett's payment." Piett bowed curtly, and Vader cut off the transmission, relieved now that he knew they were safe...which just left apprehension, a feeling he was not used to feeling. But these days, now that he was trying to win his estranged wife back, it was a feeling he was becoming more and more accustomed to. He had to play this just right-play the pleasant host, and yet not divulge too much information to his family members.

It was a shame Sith Lords weren't known for their hospitality.

He docked his private ship in the hangar bay, made sure that his Sandstorm disguise was hidden away in a locked and protected secret compartment, and that nothing was out of place in his black armored suit. Satisfied he looked the part of the Dark Lord of the Sith, he opened the hatch and descended down the ramp, heading purposefully towards his private wing of the ship, ignoring all personnel who scurried out of his way on the way to the lift. But, as soon as the lift opened on the floor containing his compartments, and the compartments he had prepared for his family, it was blessedly empty of all staff. Piett had done just as Vader had commanded. Good. Vader took a deep breath, preparing himself for what was to come, and then strode towards the reception room with purpose, and with a lot more confidence than he was currently feeling.

The door hissed open at his approach, revealing Boba Fett standing next to the viewport, seemingly at ease (but not in reality, Vader knew), and the four individuals huddled together on one of the couches he never used, staring at him in horror.

Vader gulped at the look on his nieces' faces and once again cursed the wretched mask he had to wear in public.

They were all here. His wife's family. Sola, his wife's beloved older sister, her husband Darred, and their two young daughter's, Ryoo and Pooja. All of whom stared at him with pale faces, horrified that _Lord Vade_r himself had come to receive them. He could feel their terror in the Force, and though it irked and pained him that his own family, by marriage as they were, were terrified of him, he immediately took in their appearance and knew that wherever they had been, it had not been good. All of them wore shabby threadbare clothes, their faces smudged with dirt, and he detected raw marks on their wrists from where chains had been. Anger surged, and he whirled on Fett. "What. Happened. To. Them." He demanded, his voice coming out through the mask harsh and metallic. Ryoo and Pooja eeped, and retreated further into their mother's sides, and he remembered Luke and Leia's reaction to hearing his voice through the mask...and again the anger subsided slightly, replaced with shame.

"I found them on one of the smaller Spice worlds, in the Spice Triangle between Tatooine and Ryloth, milord," Fett replied coolly, his voice also modulated through his own mask, "They were held there as slaves in the mines. Separated, but I managed to find all of them and liberate them." Vader didn't need to ask to know that by _liberate,_ he meant _kill_ their slavers. He ground his teeth together to keep his cool. He couldn't scare the children more than he already was, but...good. Slavery was an abomination...and to know that Padme's family had been subjected to it...it infuriated him to no end. Based on his own childhood, he knew, without a doubt, his family members had been through hell since their enslavement. Padme would not be pleased. Rightly so. "They are, otherwise, unharmed. As you requested." He cocked his head. "My pay?"

"See Piett." Vader pulled out a datapad and keyed instructions for the bounty hunter's pay to be transferred from one of his many private, hidden accounts.. "You can expect a large bonus for your quick timing… and your silence." Fett, highly pleased, nodded and strode out of the room, leaving Vader alone with his family.

As soon as the door was closed behind Fett, Vader turned to face his family, that apprehensive feeling once again replacing the anger. Did they know? Had Padme or her mother had a chance to tell them _why_ they had suffered this fate? He stared at them, considering, trying to find a way to approach the subject..._delicately_, but finally Sola, ever the outgoing one in her family, cleared her throat awkwardly, nervously. "L-Lord Vader," she said, her voice more timid than he remembered. _Slavery would do that to a person,_ he thought darkly. "It's...an honor to be summoned by you, and I'm..._we're _grateful you've reunited us, but...to what do we owe this...pleasure?"

It was clearly very, _very_ forced...but Vader got the impression she genuinely wanted to know why he'd done this. So, he thought darkly, they didn't know. Perhaps they'd never gotten the chance to find out before...everything happened to them. So, in response, he simply reached up and took off his helmet, revealing his identity to the last of his family.

There was an awkward silence as they all stared at one another, the Nabierre's clearly very confused at what they were seeing. Darred and Sola seemed to grasp the enormity of the situation quickly; however, and their expressions darkened, while little Ryoo and Pooja just remembering him as the nice Jedi who had sometimes played with them when he went with their Aunty Padme to Naboo, gasped. "Master Skywalker!" And, even though Sola made a move to keep them from going to him, they jumped up anyway and ran to him, both of the girls still so short that when they hugged him, they each had just one of his legs. And then, they started bawling.

The poor dears. Vader felt his heart clench at the little girls' obvious distress. Younglings should _never_ have to suffer as they so obviously had.

He flushed, suddenly not sure what to do exactly. He was a Sith Lord-he hadn't been around children like...at all the last two years. Honestly, he hadn't even thought about how his nieces would react to seeing him. He'd enjoyed playing with them whenever he saw them, of course, and he knew it made Padme happy when he did...but, it wasn't just for Padme's sake. He'd genuinely wanted to be an integral part of her family, and she adored these sweet little girls. So, he did, too. Though it felt awkward, he gently patted their backs, trying to soothe them as they blubbered about all the horrible things that had happened to them. He ignored Sola and Darred for the moment, and though the suit was awkward, he knelt down to their level, reaching up to gently wipe their tears away. It struck him that it was a very good thing he'd moved all his personnel off of this level, for if they saw Darth Vader acting like this…well, it would not bode well for his reputation.

But, then again, if he reacted this way to his nieces, how was he going to react to his own children? He couldn't treat them cold and distant just because he was a Sith Lord. Nor did he want to. This wasn't just because he wanted to win his wife back-this was because he wanted to win his family over, because...he realized...he truly cared about their well being.

Strange thought...something he'd think about later.

"Everything is alright now, young ones." He soothed, and his voice was actually soft and gentle. "You are safe. You will _never _go back to that horrid place."

The girls sniffled, their tears having left tracks in the dirt smudges on their faces, and then they were hugging him, burying their faces into the leather of his suit. Clearly, they either didn't understand that Vader and Anakin were two different people, or they just didn't care. "I knew you'd rescue us," Ryoo whispered, and Vader's heart clenched again. If only he'd known their fate sooner…

He looked over to Darred and Sola, who were now openly shocked by what was happening. "What happened?" He demanded, though he kept his voice as controlled as possible. He didn't want to scare the only two children in the entire galaxy who _weren't_ terrified of him.

Darred and Sola exchanged looks. "Honestly," Darred said, his voice exhausted, "I don't even know anymore."

"We were supposed to go into hiding with my family," Sola shot him a look that said _from you, _"But, the days surrounding the end of the Republic were...chaotic. We think some of the neighbors sold us out...and before we were supposed to meet with my mother to be rescued by Master Kenobi, we were attacked by slavers and…" she trailed off, her gaze narrowing. "Would you like to explain what's going on? Some answers would be nice."

Yep. The same fire as her sister. Vader smirked internally. No one questioned Vader...except anyone related to Padme. Padme didn't get it from nowhere. All the Naberries were like that. "I didn't...I didn't know what had happened to you. Had I known sooner…I'm so sorry, Sola, Darred," he sighed, carefully extracting the girls from himself and leading them back to their mother, who reached for them. The girls obediently went to her, and Sola hugged them protectively. "I didn't know until Padme told me…"

"You know where she is?!" Sola paled.

"Yes, they are in hiding," Vader replied patiently, "I have told no one else. _No one._" He gave Sola and Darred a pointed look, hoping to convey his sincerity in stating that.

Sola and Darred gave each other another confused look. "Why? Why did this happen, Anakin? Or, should I call you Vader?" Sola asked with an arch of her brow. Yep, definitely his wife's sister alright.

"Vader, if you please. Skywalker...I'm not that person anymore." Though this time, as he said it, it wasn't said with as much fervor, as much conviction as he usually did. At least, he wasn't killing them for knowing his identity. "I'm not sure how much Padme has told you...?" he said it as a question.

"Just that we were on the run from Vader and the Empire. There wasn't enough time to get all of the details." Darred replied, giving him a dark look.

He considered how much to tell them. The bare minimum, he decided. "The Jedi turned against Emperor Palpatine. I alone stood with him, and assumed the identity of Darth Vader to better serve him and the Empire. However...my master and I are at..._odds_, you could say. He wants my full loyalty, my total allegiance, unhindered and unencumbered. So, behind my back, he attacked your family, because he knew that as long as you all live, I will always have other allegiances, other loyalties to someone other than him. If I had known sooner..." he trailed off. Sorry wasn't enough, even though he'd already said it. Words would never be enough. He knew too well what slavery did to someone. It was just a miracle they were still alive, and that he could find them all again.

"But _why?_" Sola demanded. "I knew you and Padme were close, but...you were a Jedi…?" He was pretty sure she already knew the answer, but she wasn't willing to contemplate it aloud.

"We were married. For quite some time." Vader replied shortly. "She...she got pregnant, towards the end of the Clone Wars. I dreamed...I dreamed that she would die in childbirth." His throat tightened, as it always did when he thought about those dreams. But, she was alive now...somehow. And, so were their kids. "The Jedi wouldn't help her. The Emperor...he had power. Enough to save her, or so he claimed," he paused. He wasn't going to tell them about Mustafar. "But, things fell apart, and Padme and I...got separated." More like kidnapped by the Jedi, though he didn't think that would win him any points with Sola and Darred. "I was told by the Emperor that she'd died in childbirth...but she actually didn't. She lived and gave birth to twins. Our twins."

"_TWINS?!"_ Sola gasped, again going pale. Apparently, she didn't know either. "I...I have…?"

"Yes." Vader replied, and this time he smiled as he said, "Luke and Leia. They are two now and..._beautiful."_

"We have cousins?" Pooja asked, her eyes wide with excitement, her little mouth in an 'o.'

Vader...actually smiled wider, happiness filling him as he looked down at his niece. "Yes, you do." He replied, "And, you're going to meet them very soon."

While the girls gasped and whispered about the possibilities of having new cousins to play with, Sola asked, "But, now you know she's alive. That _t_hey're alive. And, you're bringing them here?" her voice was hard, and he could tell she expected him to say yes.

"No." he replied, again shocking her and Darred. "I'm sending you to them. As we speak, a shuttle is being prepared to take you to them."

There was stunned silence, with the exception of the girls whispers of delight at the prospect of getting to meet their cousins. "But...why?" Sola breathed, shock and disbelief clearly on her face.

Vader was quiet for a moment, again, deciding on what to tell her. Obviously, he wasn't going to reveal his master plan, but…"Because I love Padme." he replied, seriously, honestly. "And, I love my children. If it makes them happy...I will go to the end of the universe to make it happen." The data pad pinged, and he glanced at it. "Speaking of which...Your shuttle awaits." He looked at his family again, practically drinking in the sight of them. Who knew when the next time he'd see them would be. "Give...give my love to Padme and our children. Please." His throat was tight, and it was obvious when he spoke how sincere he was.

Sola's face was stony as she replied, "We'll see." Well, it was better than an outright 'no.' Vader nodded, put his helmet back on, and escorted them to the hangar bay.

* * *

She knew it. She'd seen him standing there as soon as she reached the clearing.

Figures. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

_Might as well get this over with,_ she thought wryly.

Obi-Wan was waiting for her when she parked the speeder outside of her home, arms crossed, a frustrated frown on his face. She knew he was annoyed with her, and she pointedly ignored him, determined to act like what she'd done was perfectly normal, as if she'd gone on an extended shopping trip rather than a pirate chase. So, she took her time, finishing with the speeder, getting her things together, slinging her bag with her gear in it over her shoulder, before casually strutting towards the house. Obi-Wan had not moved, just watched her intently, one eyebrow arched, as if she were about to turn around and run off again and he needed to be prepared for such an inevitability. She reached the porch, hearing the sounds of her children playing with Yoda in the house. "Good afternoon, Obi-Wan." she greeted calmly, even throwing him an easy smile.

Obi-Wan's jaw clenched. "Mon Mothma contacted me." He said, and though his voice sounded calm, there was that little bit of what she liked to call "Obi-Wan sass" in his voice. "She told me you were on your way home."

"Did she? That was nice of her." Padme said lightly. Actually, she'd just returned from Rebel Command, to report the results of her unsanctioned mission. Needless to say, though Mon was grateful for the supplies back, she'd gotten quite the lecture about disobeying orders, putting herself needlessly in danger, etc. Honestly, Padme was surprised she hadn't been court martialed. But, the Rebellion was still too small, too new. Regardless of how Mon felt about her actions, Padme was badly needed, and the supplies she'd brought back were even more desperately needed.

"Yes." his blue-green eyes darkened. "I'm glad you didn't decide to take anymore foolish detours on the way back." Ah, there was the bitterness, and the worry. Jedi though he may be, Obi-Wan was still human, who had already lost so much. The thought of what Obi-Wan had lost, however, brought the image of Sandstorm to her mind again, as it had multiple times since she'd parted ways with the rogue Jedi.

"I did what I meant to do. There was no need for more." She said, and she walked into the house without another word, knowing Obi-Wan would follow. Yoda, she was sure, would also want to hear of the mysterious Jedi. But the moment she walked in, her mother's furious voice interrupted her train of thought.

"Where have you been?! You've had us worried sick!" Jobal stood in the kitchen doorway, hands on her hips, dark circles under her eyes. Padme paused, noticing just how tired her mother looked. She wondered if she'd even slept over the last few days, and a pang of guilt hit her. She opened her mouth to explain, but she suddenly felt two sets of arms wrapping around her legs. She looked down with a smile to find each of her children hugging her tight, as if she were their lifeline.

"Mama," Luke said, looking up into her eyes...and his wide blue eyes, so much like Anakin's, made her heart melt. "Why you go?"

"No leave Mama." Leia agreed, squeezing her leg tighter.

Padme sighed and knelt down, pulling both of them into her arms, where they settled on hugging her around the neck. "I'm sorry, my darlings." She said, and meaning it. She forgot, sometimes, how _hard_ it was for her little ones. They meant the entire galaxy to her, and she was doing all of this for them-but they were still so young. They were only two after all. "I needed to...help protect the galaxy."

"You couldn't have waited a week?" Her mother demanded crossly, though she'd lowered her tone so as not to scare the children.

"No." She said, giving her mom a look. "I was going insane cooped up here in the house, not doing anything useful."

"But, you are useful here." Obi-Wan reminded her, motioning to the children in her arms. "They may have us, but they need their mother."

"They also need a safe galaxy to grow up in, Obi-Wan," Padme pointed out. "I'm doing this for them. We've discussed this."

"I know, Sweetie," Her mom said, running a weary hand over her face. "But, this isn't healthy. Throwing yourself into danger constantly…I know you're stressed. We all are since…" she trailed off, remembering that reminding Luke and Leia of the 'bad man' would probably upset them all over again.

"This is why I'm proposing that we leave this place." Obi-Wan said as he sat down beside Yoda, who had walked in and sat down at the kitchen table.

Padme clenched her teeth. "This is why I went off by myself." She said, shooting a glare at him. "We've been over this a thousand times already. I'm not going to run more than I already have. He's always going to find us, now that he knows not only that I'm alive, but…"

"Padme." Obi-Wan had straightened, his expression grave.

She ignored him. "...he knows about Luke and Leia, too…"

"Padme…"

"Wha, Mama?" Luke asked, looking up at her, and she ruffled his hair.

"Nothing, Sweetie." She said, giving him a smile that she did not feel. But if it helped him feel better, she'd smile. "Anyway, there's no point in running…"

"Padme!" Obi-Wan was back on his feet, as was Yoda, both of them reaching for their lightsabers, serious expressions on their faces. Finally, Padme stopped talking, looking at them in astonishment. "Someone is approaching." Obi-Wan whispered.

Padme's expression darkened, and she carefully extracted Luke and Leia from her. "Go to Grandma," she whispered, her free hand already going to her bag where she'd stowed her blaster. "Go with Grandma and do exactly as she says."

"But, Mama," Leia whined, and Padme gave her a stern look. Leia looked like she was about to argue...but she glanced at Obi-Wan and Yoda, and must have sensed something was wrong through the Force, for she soon nodded and both she and Luke went to her mother, who took their little hands and pulled them back to the bedrooms.

Padme stood, looking to Obi-Wan and Yoda sternly. "Is it him?" She asked softly, her grip tightening on her blaster.

"Vader, it is not." Yoda murmured, a frown on his face, "But no danger, do I sense. Darkness, but no danger."

"That's still not exactly good news, Master Yoda," Padme pointed out, creeping to the window and just barely opening the curtains a smidge to peek out. So far, it was just the forest beyond, but...there! "An Imperial shuttle." she whispered, watching it rise from the forest, turning, and then taking off from whence it came. "It's...leaving?" she said softly, turning with a shocked expression to look at Obi-Wan and Yoda, who were now frowning.

"The person with the dark feeling…" Obi-Wan murmured, "He's...leaving?"

"Presences there still are, in the forest." Yoda informed her, "Light presences. Innocent."

Ok. This was just kriffing _weird._

That didn't make any sense. Clearly, the Imperial shuttle was from Vader. If it had been from anyone else, Padme knew they wouldn't have left. But, why leave someone behind? "I don't care who they are," Padme whispered urgently, lifting her blaster. "If they're from Vader, they can't be good news."

Obi-Wan looked inclined to agree, but Yoda tilted his head. "Possibly." He said, and Padme bit back a biting retort. "Cautious, we must be."

Padme sighed and turned back to the window, watching, waiting. "I know this may not be the best time to tell you this," she whispered as they waited, watching, hands on their weapons, "But, while I was out there...I met another Jedi."

Obi-Wan caught his breath. "A _Jedi?" _he whispered, his voice eager...and wary at the same time. "Alive?" She knew he was thinking about their failed trip to the Spire.

"Yes." She replied softly, her eyes continuously scanning the tree line.

"Who was it?" he asked, and there was so much _hope_ in his voice.

Padme hesitated. "I don't know his real name." she explained softly. "He's protecting his identity...like I am. He calls himself Sandstorm. Clearly a codename, like mine, but...do you know anyone who would have called himself that?"

She didn't need to turn around to know that Yoda and Obi-Wan had exchanged puzzled looks.

"No," Obi-Wan said, his voice frowning. "What did he look like?"

"Well, he was wearing a mask. But, he was taller than me...taller than you, Obi-Wan. Humanoid. Blue eyes. His voice had a modulator, so it wasn't recognizable. He said he was on a secret mission with only two clone troopers, so that's how he got away from Order 66. Does that narrow it down?" She half hoped that it would, for she was curious about the new commer. Very curious.

"Slightly." Yoda replied, "On secret missions, many Jedi were. Possible some survived and escaped, it may be."

Padme opened her mouth to reply...but suddenly there was movement at the tree line. "There." She whispered, raising her blaster, her entire body tense, watching, expecting Stormtroopers to come strolling their way any second. But, as the movement became more clear, and she realized it was not Stormtroopers, but something else she thought would be impossible, she gasped. "No," she whispered, "It...it _can't _be…"

"Padme," Obi-Wan said, frowning, "Isn't that…? Hey! Wait! It could still be a trap!" Padme had dropped her blaster and gone running to the door, throwing it open. She didn't listen to him. Padme knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was no trick.

She'd know her sister and her family anywhere.

She jumped off the porch, running towards Sola and Darred, and Force, was that _really _Ryoo and Pooja?! It was! When her sister saw it was her, she too broke out into a run, though there was a limp that hadn't been there before, and Padme was sobbing as they met each other halfway, wrapping one another in each other's arms, holding the other close. "Sola!" Padme sobbed into her sister's shoulder. She'd forgotten that her older sister was taller than she was, but she hadn't forgotten her touch, or the smell of her hair, or the sound of her voice. She'd half given up on _ever _seeing her sister again, or even learning what had happened to her until after the war was over, when it was safe to look. But, here she was, right there, and soon she felt Ryoo and Pooja hugging her waist, crying too. She pulled away from her sister just enough to run her hands over the girls' hair, feeling that they were real, that this moment was real… "You're here! You're alive! How…?"

"I can't believe it either!" Sola said through tears, touching Padme's cheeks. As Darred approached, Padme smiled at him and gave him a hug too, just so happy they were all still alive and in one piece. "We didn't think we'd ever see you again…."

"Same here!" Padme laughed, a real, genuine laugh. Force, it felt good to laugh with someone other than her children. "But...where did you go? What happened?!"

Sola's expression darkened marginally, but before she could reply, a scream from the house interrupted them. Padme whirled, her hand going to her weapon-less side, but relaxed when she realized it was just her mother, having been told what was happening by probably Obi-Wan or Yoda, who was running for them even as she sobbed. "Mom!" Sola cried, and she let go of Padme to go to their mother. Her nieces also cried for their grandma, and they too ran for her.

Padme watched with tears in her eyes as her mother enveloped the rest of her remaining family in her arms, crying and kissing them on their foreheads, unable to speak due to the tears that made speech impossible. But, as Padme watched, glorying in the sight of her family finally reunited, she remembered the Imperial shuttle, remembered the destroyed safe house that had been found when they were supposed to be picked up to join them, and doubt began to settle in. "Mom," she said, and her mother paused, barely, to look at her, not taking her hands off of her family. "We need to move this inside. Find out what's going on."

Before her mother could reply, Pooja tugged on the sleeve of Padme's shirt, calling her attention down. "Aunty Padme," she said, with a smile on her face and excitement in her eyes. "Where's our cousins?"

The feeling of unease grew. "Cousins?" Padme echoed, eyebrows shooting up.

"Yeah, Luke and Leia?" Ryoo added with a grin, excitement blossoming across her face as well.

Padme blinked. Her sister's family wouldn't know about Luke and Leia. She had kept that secret hidden well, and she knew that her mother, who had contacted them to run in the first place, wouldn't have told him because even she didn't know the story at the time. There was no way they'd know about Luke and Leia...unless…

Her mother had stopped crying, for she too seemed to sense the unspoken implication of that question. "They're inside." She said, her voice cracking. "Why don't we all step inside the house and discuss what happened, shall we?"

When they entered the home, there was no sign of Yoda, and Obi-Wan was in the kitchen, making tea for the family, staying out of the way of their reunion. But, given the sinking feeling in Padme's gut, she thought it would be good for him to stay, so when he brought tea into their living room, she motioned for him to sit. He hesitated, but he didn't argue. Thankfully.

Luke and Leia, sensing that the newcomers were safe, appeared not moments later, looking around the corner shyly. They had never really known any visitors to come to their home. Except the 'bad man.' Not a good memory. Padme and Obi-Wan were careful to keep them out of sight, and the only person who had come close to being a visitor was Yoda. But. when Ryoo and Pooja saw them, they squealed in delight. "Is that Luke and Leia?" Ryoo gushed. Hearing their names, Luke and Leia glanced at each other, as if deciding what to do, before Leia cautiously stepped forward. Seeing his sister moving into the room, Luke quickly followed.

"Yes." Padme smiled thinly. "Luke, Leia, come meet your cousins, Ryoo and Pooja." Again, her twins shared a puzzled look, not knowing what a cousin was, or why there were kids not that much bigger than they there, but they approached anyway, and Ryoo and Pooja began to fawn over them. Leia seemed quite pleased with this; however, Luke gave Padme a dismayed look, but nevertheless allowed them to continue gushing over how cute he was.

"They're beautiful." Sola said softly, "Leia looks just like you."

Padme smile widened. "Yes, she does. Thank you."

"And Luke…" Sola trailed off.

Obi-Wan, by then, had picked up on the reason why Padme had gestured for him to stay, and he leaned forward, stroking his beard curiously. "What exactly happened to your family?" He asked.

Darred and Sola exchanged a dark look, before Darred spoke. "We were sold out. By the neighbors, we think. We were captured and sent into slavery on one of the spice worlds." Jobal made a horrified noise at that, and Padme clenched her fists in anger. It was a miracle her nieces could still smile. She remembered how slavery had affected Anakin, how it still practically affected Lord Vader…"We didn't think we'd get out of there...until Boba Fett showed up, liberated us, and...well…" he trailed off.

Boba Fett? What? _Why?_ Padme could feel a headache developing in her head. "What. Happened?" She asked evenly.

Again, another look between them, and with a pang she realized how much she missed sharing knowing looks between her and Anakin. But, the thought was replaced as Sola sighed and told the most wild story of being liberated and rescued by a ruthless bounty hunter in _Vader's _employ, being brought on board the _Executor, _Vader's flagship, being brought to his _personal _sitting room and meeting him in person… Finding out that he was, in fact, Anakin Skywalker because he'd taken off the helmet…

"He is _not _Anakin." Padme cut in bitterly. "He's Darth Vader. My husband is _dead."_

An awkward silence fell. "I know Darth Vader has done…" Sola paused. "Horrible, terrible things. Even we heard about it in our...situation. But...Padme...the man we met...I mean he wasn't exactly Anakin, but he wasn't fully Vader either." She looked towards where Ryoo and Pooja had settled down, playing with Leia and Luke, though Luke still seemed unsure of the newcomers, "He was kind, gentle even, to Ryoo and Pooja. Just like he used to be."

Padme was shaking her head, anger bubbling inside of her. "He _isn't_ what he used to be. That person is gone!" She protested. "I _know_ my husband. I _know_ Vader. They are two different people. If he was kind...it's a trick." She said the words, trying to make herself believe it….but _why_ would he rescue Sola and her family? It didn't make sense. Sith Lord's didn't do things like that...but then again, Palpatine had acted so kind and benevolent. She hadn't suspected anything. Perhaps Vader was picking up on his master's tricks. Yes, that had to be it.

Sola frowned. "Alright. I'm just saying, he didn't just _look_ like Anakin…"

"He _doesn't _look like him." Padme interrupted stubbornly. "Not with those cursed Sith-gold eyes!"

Another exchanged look between Darred and Sola. Padme rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, you can't tell me you think that doesn't matter! It's a sign of his allegiance to the Sith!"

An awkward silence fell. Then Darred said the words that stopped her heart, that made her even more confused to the point where she couldn't think straight. "But Padme," he said slowly, "That's just it, though. Darth Vader's eyes...weren't gold."

Padme's eyes bugged out, her jaw dropping in shock at Darred's next words.

"They were blue. Completely blue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Prepare yourselves. The next chapter is a wild one!   
The song for this chapter is Man or a Monster by Sam Tinnesz.   
Leave some love!  
Love,   
Ladyvader23


	16. Two to Tango

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the song "You Don't Own Me" by Grace/G-Easy

He absolutely _hated_ parties. Detested them really.

_Nothing_ _but_ _a_ _bunch_ _of_ _brown_-_nosing_ _sycophants_ _gorging_ _themselves_ _on_ _ridiculously_ _expensive_ _delicacies_ _and_ _getting_ _drunk_ _on_ _the_ _finest_ _Alderaanian_ _wines_ _and_ _Corellian_ _brandies_, he thought with a snort.

He'd hated them whenever Padme threw them, too. It was all so _fake_, designed to lure party goers into a false sense of enjoyment so that the host or hostess could get what _they_ wanted. Even Padme had been very particular about what went on at her parties, because she used them as a way to gain political advantage. That's how it always worked.

Still, at least at Padme's parties, they'd been together, and he'd gotten to watch her masterfully entertain her guests while also procuring the information she needed at the same time. Not to mention spend the night afterwards engaging in his favorite form of '_aggressive negotiations' _with his lovely wife_. Sadly, that won't be the case tonight_, he peevishly mused. Actually, glancing below him once again, now that he thought about it, it made a lot of sense that Padme was now a master assassin who could potentially infiltrate _anywhere_.

He wished she were here now.

Pity.

The Emperor too, was fond of parties. Not going to them, of course, but throwing them across the galaxy as a display of the Empire's power. _His_ power. Parties officially endorsed by the Emperor were, naturally, cesspools of power plays and greedy Imperials seeking nothing but to further their own selfish gain. Vader normally could care less about them. He usually tried to stay as far away from them as he possibly could. But this time, given that he'd been stationed relatively close by to this one, the Emperor had sent him the order: Go, remind them in my absence that _I _am in control.

Vader gritted his teeth, cursed his luck, and did as he was told.

He'd rather be back on his ship watching the twins and his family on the holo transmissions to his encrypted private channel, or trying to figure out exactly what Padme's next mission was, as she'd left for her new one just a week ago. If she called in for Sandstorm's help...Well, there would be no answering. After all, though he'd shared encrypted comm link frequencies with her, he couldn't exactly whip out that comm link _here _and answer it as Vader, now could he? Especially not while he was currently looming on a dias over the party below, arms crossed, the black mask practically glaring at everyone and everything.

Like all of the Emperor's fancy parties, it was an elegant affair. Honestly, he didn't know _how_ a Sith Lord was so good at planning things like this. The ballroom was massive, the black and white marble floor so shiny, it reflected the guests in it. The walls were gilded with gold, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling emitting just the right amount of light to cast a dreamy glow on the room. Everyone wore finery that made Vader want to gag. Perfectly tailored suits and capes that looked much too uncomfortable, with stupid top hats that were meant to make them look taller than they were, and dresses that ranged from poofy ballgowns to skimpy sleek things that barely covered the most intimate parts of their bodies. In his black armored suit, he usually stood out like a sore thumb, all military and impersonal: The perfect right hand of the Emperor.

But tonight, he supposed that he didn't stick out _quite _as much: This party, unlike the few others he'd been forced to attend, was practically _made_ for him.

It was a masquerade ball.

Everyone was wearing masks. Not just him, though his was not at _all_ as fancy as the others. Everyone wore masks from those that were something simple and elegant, to the more brash, outlandish, and ridiculous. He saw masks meant to embody multiple different types of creatures across the galaxy, from sweet, gentle, colorful birds, to vicious gundarks. He supposed that made the party _slightly_ more bearable...if only he didn't hate all of the people there.

Especially the host.

But that, he always suspected, was Sidious' true intention of making him go to these little soirées anyway. Every time, he had reasons to hate the official 'host' of the party. Usually it was because they were absolutely witless fools who had bribed their way to power, but sometimes they truly had such a slimey personality that even the Force seemed to shy away from them, as if they were so vile that even the Force didn't want to touch them. Such was the case of the host at this event tonight, Commander Ozzik Stern: A slaver, a man who had amassed his fortune and power within the Empire by subjugating entire worlds, sending their residents to work in mines all across the galaxy. When he wasn't managing a slaving business, he was using his resources to hunt different species of aliens just for sport. Vader was a Sith. He was supposed to turn a blind eye to things like that. Men like Stern, however, filled him with a rage that made him want to slaughter everyone who had come to celebrate his new posting to Commander.

Even as a Sith Lord, he found it unconscionable.

Considering that the Emperor did not normally throw parties for soldiers achieving the rank of commander, Vader was partially convinced that Sidious had thrown it simply to needle at Vader, who _hated_ slavers due to his… to Anakin's past. That, and Stern's father also probably did something to make Sidious pleased. Hearing the tread of shoes on the marble floor, Vader glanced over and had to stifle a growl at _who_ was coming toward him.

Just the man he _didn't_ want to see.

Stern approached him now, with his already drunk best friend in tow. "Lord Vader," Stern greeted, a smirk plastered to his face, and Vader's fists clenched. Even his voice was grating. "I'm _so_ pleased you could attend tonight." Stern smiled, and the scar across his face (from a wookie he'd hunted, Vader heard) made him look more like a monster than Vader's mask did. Even with his white mask covering half of his face, Stern looked like the serial killing slaver that he was. The smile didn't touch his cold, dead black eyes.

Vader said nothing, just staring at him, as if by doing so, the man would disappear into a puff of smoke. Actually, that _would_ make the night more interesting. _For_ _me_, he smirked to himself. Vader wondered how his drunk friend would react to that, and the possibility made him grin behind the mask. If only the Force could do that…

"Allow me to introduce…" he was pointing at his stupid, inebriated, equally witless friend, who, at least, had the good sense to come to the party blackout _drunk_. Vader wished he could do the same, but even if he was allowed to drink while on duty, he couldn't without removing his mask. And Sidious would punish him severely if he did that. Vader realized he'd tuned out, but he really, truly did not care. He wanted to be back aboard the _Executor_ and doing literally anything else. But Force, Stern wouldn't shut up, and even though he'd been ordered here to make sure the party went smoothly, that didn't mean he had to be pleasant about it. He was, afterall, a Sith Lord. Which Stern somehow managed to ignore.

"Commander Stern," Vader interrupted, his baritone voice deep and sarcastic through the mask: An obvious warning. "I am here to remind you and your guests that the ultimate power in this galaxy remains in the Emperor's hands. I am not here to make idle chit chat with imbeciles."

Stern's face flushed, making his scars look a garish pink on his ugly pock-marked face, and he drew himself up to his full height (which was still several inches shorter than Vader). "The Emperor is throwing this party in my honor, Lord Vader. Do not forget who is in charge tonight."

Behind his mask, Vader's eyebrows rose in disbelief. Did this guy have a death wish? To be frank, Vader probably would have killed him the moment he spoke to him, had the Emperor not added another order to the message: Do not kill the host, under _any_ circumstances. But Stern didn't know that, and Vader wasn't about to enlighten him. So, he stared right at the man, letting him feel the intensity of his gaze even behind the onstorous mask he wore, and then took one, deliberate step forward so that he was looming over the man. "Do you feel in charge, Commander Stern?"

Stern, being shorter than he was, took an involuntary step backwards. His friend, even in his drunken state, had the sense to look at Vader as if he were a gundark about to eat them for dinner. "I, um." Stern stammered, looking around as if to order some of the Stormtroopers stationed around the room to arrest Vader. Vader held back a scoff. Stupid. Why Sidious wanted the man alive, Vader would never know. "I, ah, apologize, Lord Vader. I…" his gaze narrowed on someone else approaching from the edge of Vader's vision, and he seemed to relax, as though anyone could save him from the intense scrutiny of Vader's gaze. "Oh, uh, my date for the night is here. I'm afraid we'll have to, ah, postpone this conversation, Lord Vader."

Vader clenched his teeth. No one put _him_ off like that. Vader may not have been allowed to kill Stern, but he could certainly kill his friend. _He_ wasn't off limits. He was about to reach through the Force to crush the other man's windpipe, when a lilting voice stopped him cold.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Vader whirled, suddenly unable to breathe. No….no, it couldn't be!...He _had_ to be mistaken...but no, he'd know _that_ voice anywhere! Sure enough, the woman, or Stern's 'date,' as the wretch had called her, was none other than Padme Amidala Skywalker. Vader's wife. But, to his horror, she was _not_ in her Nightblade gear, or even one of the many frilly Nubian dresses she'd worn to parties like this when they were together. Vader was left stunned and absolutely speechless, mouth agape inside his mask, as his widened eyes roved slowly over her delectable form from her head to her toes.

By the Force...

Instead, she wore an outfit that made Vader instantly seethe with jealousy, longing to whip off his cloak and wrap her in it, and boil with fury as hot as the lava on Mustafar itself. Not to mention desire that roared through his veins so hot, so fast and furious, it nearly brought him to his knees.

_How _dare _she wear an outfit like this in public! No one else but _me _should ever see her dressed this...scantily, _he fumed silently through gritted teeth, as he continued to stare dumbstruck at his wife.

She wore a black, skimpy...could he even _call_ that a dress?! The top was sheer black diaphanous fabric that extended to her waist below her navel, covered in black beaded decollete in various swirling patterns that strategically covered her breasts...but barely, with thin beaded straps in a halter design leading to a deep plunging V neckline, exposing so much of her generous post-pregnancy cleavage Vader thought he would choke _himself_ trying to bite back a retort. Unfortunately, it only got _worse _when she turned around to greet Stern. That's when he saw that it was completely backless all the way down to _just_ above her bottom, reminiscent of that first dress she'd worn for him on Naboo. The skirt was black and long, ending just above her ankles and split into three pieces, each slit going straight up to her hip, revealing _every_ beautiful inch of her smooth, toned, bare legs. She looked taller than she actually was due to black, 3-inch T-strapped heels on her dainty feet that she moved effortlessly in.

Sweeping his floored gaze upward, he noted the top half of her face was covered with a matching black mask that glittered in the dim light with elaborate beading and black feathers framing the left side of the mask with a black flower to complete it. Her glorious mane of hair was pulled back and secured at the back of her head with a black beaded clip that allowed her long tresses to flow in a river of dark ringlets almost halfway down her back. The only color in her ensemble was her blood red lips, which smiled alluringly when Stern took her hand and planted a searing kiss on the back of it.

_Kriff!_

_Well_, Vader seethed as his entire body shook with more anger than he'd felt in...he couldn't remember when. At least he knew she wasn't carrying any weapons, since the damn dress literally left absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination! The urge to give Stern a long, slow painful death was rocketing to the top of his list of priorities with every passing second…

Stern snaked an arm around Padme's lower back, splaying his fingers against the bare skin exposed there, bringing her flush against him. Maybe he could endure the punishment for killing Stern. Actually, he was certain he could. Positively, no doubts about it. "Lord Vader," Stern said (though he hadn't bothered to peel his eyes off _his_ wife while he spoke, Vader noticed) his voice confident and full of obvious desire for the woman in his arms. "May I introduce Lady Adrianna, by far the most beautiful woman here tonight..."

Vader just stared. If he opened his mouth, he was going to start demanding to know why the _hell_ his own damned WIFE was wearing that...that...with...with…! Padme turned a dazzling smile on him, literally as if she were a ditsy girl in love….Though her dark brown eyes were alight with warning, and challenge. Aimed directly at _him. _"It's _so_ lovely to finally meet the man responsible for enforcing our Emperor's will." She drawled, sounding...way more sincere than he thought possible. Then, he realized, there was an underlying message there, the same one that had been there for their every interaction since he'd found out she was alive: This is all _your_ fault, and I _will_ make you pay for it.

Dammit to all nine of the Corellian hells! She had him in that moment, and the quirk of her eyebrow under that damned mask and the smirk on her luscious lips spoke volumes. And, they _both_ knew it.

Again, he opened his mouth, realized he was going to say some _very_ unattractive things to her, things that would undoubtedly piss her off, making an already difficult situation between them worse (and probably blow whatever little plan she was trying to execute), and what came out of his mouth was more of a strangled growl/groan/horrified moan...which sounded like a dying tauntaun through the vocoder in his mask. Stern blanched, as if sensing that Vader was literally two seconds away from murdering him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Y-yes, well, we should, ah, leave Lord Vader to his...duties, my dear."

"Yes," Padme said, her voice sounding almost simpering, but her eyes, he noticed, were dancing with extreme _satisfaction_ at having bested him once again, and Vader's gaze narrowed, his teeth clenched in fury, as she practically pressed herself into Stern. She wrapped her arm around his waist and successfully drew the idiot's attention away from his would-be killer, "Let's go celebrate your promotion, love."

Love?! Did she just say '_Love?!' _Vader was nearly beside himself in jealous outrage, breathing hard now, but before he could start strangling the life from the pathetic excuse of a man, they quickly turned and headed back down the steps from the dias and into the crowd of party goers, Stern's drunk friend slinking off towards the food table for, he assumed, more alcohol. How _could_ she?! How could she stand to let another man...especially one like _that_...even touch her, let alone parts of her body that only _he_ had ever touched?! No man but _he_ had the right to touch her, dammit!

Like it or not, she was still _his wife..._and Vader intended it to stay that way, too.

They were separated, yes, and she'd made it clear that she considered her husband dead, yes, but she couldn't...she wouldn't actually cheat on him, _would_ she?! His fists clenched and unclenched, and the desire to rip out his lightsaber and start killing everyone in that blasted ballroom was strong. Very strong. He'd like nothing better than to throw her over his shoulder and drag her back to the _Executor (_Yes_, _even kicking and screaming_. _Who would dare challenge him?_)_. He could force her to stay locked in his private suite of rooms until she agreed to be with him again as his wife. The desire to do this rose with every second that ticked by. How could she even go out with _anyone_, let alone a sleazebag like Stern?! She'd literally killed men for doing way less than Stern ever had, and…

Wait a sec...

He paused, logic somehow managing to break through his haze of white-hot fury. She'd...killed men...for less...Last he'd seen her at home, she was packing to go to Rebel Command to receive her new orders for her next mission. Though, he knew her simply because he knew literally _everything_ about her, the mask was enough to hide her features for anyone who didn't. Which, was everyone in this room. _Hmm_...Stern was a galactic slaving sleazebag...and a recently promoted one at that. A prime target for an assassination. Though again, that..._thing_ she was wearing did not give her _any_ hiding spots for a weapon (It barely covered her own skin as it was, he fumed), and the guards at the door were searching everyone for any hint of a weapon. But...it had to be an assassination attempt. Right?

It was either believe that, or believe she was cheating on him, and if it was the latter, the logical part of his brain reasoned, he would _never_ win her or his children back, and that was simply unacceptable. He'd already done so much to ensure that getting his family back would happen. He wasn't about to let her and some _skimpy excuse _of a dress ruin that. In fact, he thought, his eyes scanning the room for possibilities, he was going to take control of the situation, whether she liked it or not.

She may have thrown down the gauntlet, but he was damn well picking it up.

Frankly, he no longer kriffing cared _what_ his master had sent him here to do. Her and that damn dress had seen to _that. _No_, _Vader was now on a mission of his own-remind her just _who_ was really in charge here...Not to mention remind her in no uncertain terms _who_ she still belonged to. He didn't give a damn if she killed Stern...Honestly, _he_ should after watching the buffoon's wandering eyes and hands going where they did _not_ belong, but he'd been sent here to make sure the party ran smoothly, and a dead host was not the definition of a successful party. Unfortunately. Besides, as a husband still very much in love with his wife, he had more important things to deal with at this moment. But first, Darth Vader needed to make his exit, though how he'd…Ahhh, yes...The perfect target.

He spotted Stern's best friend staggering out of a side door of the ballroom. _He's_ _about_ _my_ _size_ _and build,_ Vader realized with a predatory grin, and he moved to follow.

Looks like Stern's wouldn't be the _only_ death tonight, and Vader was looking forward to _both_ of them. Immensely.

* * *

He _wasn't_ supposed to be there, dammit!

None of the intel had even _suggested_ that the second in command to the Empire would attend the party. Sure, it was being thrown by the Emperor, but everyone knew that he didn't actually show up to any of them. Rebel command had checked, double checked, and then triple checked the guest list, and there had been no indication that Darth Vader would be attending. _Then_ _again_, she mused bitterly as Stern's hand again wandered much lower than was publically decent, _Vader_ _didn't_ _need_ _an_ _invitation_. He could probably show up to anything he wanted and get away with it.

Kriffing hells. She was _so_ not prepared for this.

_Get out of there! _Obi-Wan hissed into the hidden micro earpiece in her ear for about the millionth time since it had become clear that Vader was at the party. _Or, I'll come in after you!_

Right, like that'd _really_ work. And, start a full-blown lightsaber battle in the middle of the party, a party chock _full_ of Imperials? Don't think so. Nope. _Not_ happening.

She couldn't exactly respond back to him without Stern thinking she was a crazy person, but she didn't need to. Obi-Wan wouldn't come in, lightsaber blazing, unless she was for sure about to be taken captive. So far, Vader hadn't made a move to take her. Hell, she'd been sure he would have done so the moment she'd shown up wearing..._this_. It wasn't exactly something she'd ever have thought to wear around him before, because it was sure to set off a fit of jealous rage from the Sith Lord, but...Somehow, he hadn't done it. Not yet, at least. But, she was certain murder was on his mind.

She'd lost sight of him in the crowd of Imperials, but she could still feel his suffocating presence hovering over the ballroom, making it almost impossible to breathe. No. She had a mission to prepare for. Stern was dangerous, not only to the Rebellion, but to the literal freedom of the entire galaxy. He needed to die, here and now, before he could further his own evil plans.

Obi-Wan was supposed to be using the party as a distraction to download the intel containing the location of Stern's slaves so that the Rebellion could later free them. Once he had it done, he would let her know, and she'd kill him. Not with a blaster or a lightsaber or even a simple knife. No, those items would have been confiscated before she'd even walked in the door, and unlike Stern, who had been mind-tricked by Obi-Wan to take her as his 'date,' he couldn't trick an entire platoon of guards into letting her in with weapons. Obvious weapons, at least.

However, the Empire wasn't prepared for the...unexpected.

Because, on her crimson lips was coated a thin sheen of poison. Slow acting, but deadly poison. Odorless and tasteless. When Obi-Wan gave the word, she'd kiss Stern, and then use the fifteen minutes it would take to kill the man to make her escape. She was certain that even with Vader looming over the party, she could pull it off. Stern would die tonight, though Vader probably would have killed the man outright for even _daring_ to look at her in this outfit. He'd appeared ready to do so on the dias not ten minutes ago. When he'd let out a squawk that sounded like a dying tauntaun, she'd been half afraid that he'd steal her kill from her right then and there.

But he hadn't, which, she had to admit, _was _shocking, and now Padme was dancing with the clumsy serial killer, his hands cold on her bare skin. Everywhere he touched, she felt like he left a layer of filth behind. It was just her imagination, she knew, because his hands were meticulously clean, but she couldn't shake the feeling anyway. Still, she smiled and laughed in all of the appropriate places, pressing herself against Stern whenever he seemed to be distracted, and made it very clear, in _his_ head anyway, that she wanted him, and no one else that night. It wasn't hard. Stern was a pompous womanizer, on top of all of his other crimes.

"Champagne?" He asked, taking two glasses from a passing waiter's tray and holding one out to her.

She smiled politely. "Not tonight, I'm afraid. I've already had a little too much." A lie, of course. She'd never drink on the job, especially not with poison on her lips. She'd taken the appropriate precautions to keep herself from accidentally killing herself, of course, just as Rebel Command advised, and Obi-Wan had a vial of the antidote, just in case. As it was, she would likely get herself sick.

Even the thought of _having_ to kiss this sanctimonious twerp was sickening.

Stern didn't seem to notice or care. He just shrugged, "Suit yourself." She watched as he drained both glasses. She smiled, pleased that he was only going to make her job that much easier. Perhaps the coroner would assume he was poisoned from one of the many drinks he'd already downed. She personally liked the Empire knowing that Nightblade had killed another one of their own, but she'd let this one slide, if she got to watch him die.

"When will the party be over?" She asked loudly, though the question was really meant for Obi-Wan, "I want to take our own party somewhere else more..._private_." She batted her eyelashes suggestively, and Stern paused mid drink, staring at her.

"I...of course." He looked like he was going to ask her to leave with him right then, but he seemed to think better of it and added, "I can't leave just yet. Perhaps in about a half an hour, when everyone has properly felt and acknowledged my presence as host." She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. No one here really gave a rancor's ass about Stern and his promotion. The only thing they cared about was that they were simply there, at a party thrown by the Emperor, which meant two things: Free food. Free booze.

That brings Imperials crawling out of the woodwork, every time.

But, Obi-Wan responded with the real information she wanted: _Two minutes. _He said unhappily, _Then...and I can't believe I'm saying this...you kiss him and get the hell out of there._

She couldn't help the genuine smile that lit across her poisoned lips. Obi-Wan was ever the anxious one. Some things never changed. So be it. She could entertain the worthless scoundrel for another two minutes. But as she did, the minutes seemed to drag. Any second, she knew, Vader could decide to hell with it and murder everyone in that room. Most of these Imperials deserved to die anyway for their crimes, but not at the hands of an enraged and jealous Vader, who simply did it because they happened to be in the way between him and her. More importantly, without her lightsaber or any other weapon to protect herself, she would be screwed. She doubted even Obi-Wan could get there in time.

But, finally, Obi-Wan hissed, _Done! Kiss the bastard and let's go!_

She'd never been so relieved to kiss someone other than Anakin in her life...Actually, she _hadn't_ kissed anyone else since she'd married him, though some foolish few had tried. But, if a kiss would kill Stern _and_ get his grubby hands off of her, she'd do it. She turned to him, raising her hands up to either side of the man's scarred face, pulling him slightly down to her height without any resistance, and she kissed him.

Urg. Worst. Kiss. _Ever_.

She had to be careful-any slip up and she too could ingest too much of the poison. But, she didn't need to worry. Obi-Wan safely had the antidote, and besides, the oaf acted like he'd never kissed a woman before, as he smashed his lips against hers. He licked her lips sloppily, hoping for entry...and she pulled away, batting her eyes at him. Force, the man had the breath of a Hutt! "More later." She winked at him suggestively, as he stared at her, dumbfounded, before he grinned like a fool and licked his lips...again. Sealing his fate. Perfect. Now, for her get away. "As for now, I need to run to the fresher. Where might I…?"

_Exit stage left. Time to blow this party_, Obi-Wan sounded relieved.

"Excuse me." Her entire body froze. No...Force, no he _wasn't_….What the hell was he _doing?._..she turned, slowly, eyes wide, hoping that she was hearing things...and found herself staring at Lord Vader. But not wearing the black armor suit and mask that marked him as such to the rest of the galaxy. Instead, he appeared as a tall, dashing impersonation of _her_ Anakin in a black tux and black and silver half mask, blonde curls framing his face, golden eyes staring out at her, fury and jealousy dancing in their honeyed depths. A wicked smile graced his lips, as he held out his hand toward hers. "Sorry to interrupt such a _touching_ moment, but I couldn't resist." His voice was clipped. Dangerous. Oh yes. He'd seen the kiss alright. And, he _wasn't_ happy. No, no, no, no. Not happy at all. "May I have this dance, milady?"

Uh-oh. Kriffing hells!

She stared at him, looking from those bone-chilling golden eyes, to the hand stretched toward her. He wasn't serious right now, was he? Had he lost his mind?! All it would take was for someone to recognize him as the Hero With No Fear and _both_ of their covers would be blown...though Vader had a lot more leeway than _she_ did, being the Emperor's second and all. Being a Sith Lord. Not her husband...though he sure looked exactly as she always dreamed he would had they been allowed to meet at a dance like this as two lovers, not Senator and Jedi. Minus the golden eyes, of course. And murderous rage simmering in them.

_Oh no, no, no, _Obi-Wan said, clearly the only sane one in this situation. _You are NOT going to dance with him!_

She had to agree. "Oh, my Lord...er," She realized she had no kriffing idea what to call him when he was like this. "I'm...I'm sorry, but I'm already spoken for, for the night and…"

"Oh, _really?_ Well, I'm _sure_ our gracious host wouldn't mind letting one of his guests steal you for just one dance." He sounded so logical, as if what he suggested was perfectly normal, but she noticed the spike of jealousy that flared in his eyes at the mention of her being 'spoken for.' looked to Stern, hoping he'd object, and she'd have an excuse to say no, but she found him already gulping down yet another glass of alcohol.

Idiot.

"Oh, yeah," Stern burped when he was done, waving her off. "One dance won't hurt. Just make sure to bring her back in one piece." He winked at her, a dopey grin on his face. "We've got plans tonight. Right, Sweetie?"

She closed her eyes, waiting for Vader to lose it right then and kill him and everyone else in the vicinity...but no blow came. She opened her eyes in astonishment, looking back to Vader, who was still patiently waiting, though his rage seemed to burn hotter in his eyes at the mention of their '_plans_.' "See?" He said with a mocking smile, his hand still outstretched, "You're free for at least one dance. Shall we, milady?"

_Say no, Padme! _Obi-Wan hissed, but he knew as well as she did that she didn't really have a choice in this. Not if she wanted to avoid a fight.

So, cautiously, hating herself with every movement she made toward him, she placed her hand in his. She suppressed a shudder at feeling the familiar calluses on his fingers as they tightened around hers, and he led her through the throng of people to the dance floor, away from Stern, and far enough away from the other dancers to not be overheard.

Obi-Wan groaned, _You two are going to be the death of me, I swear...Force, I need a drink._

"I didn't peg you for a dancer, Vader." She said, her voice quiet and seething, as he stopped, turning to face her. Without his cursed mask, she could see his eyes roaming up her body, taking her in...and though there was smoldering desire there, as she knew there would be, there was also the rabid jealousy she hated so much, amplified tenfold by the Dark Side. "I recognize the outfit. I _assume_ you killed Lord Greystone to get it."

"Was that his name?" Vader said casually, though he was still looking her over. Honestly, it was a wonder he wasn't drooling. "I didn't really take note of that-you see, it's hard to notice much of anything else when you're dressed like you're here to seduce every male in the room." He arched an eyebrow at her, and his nostrils flared in anger.

"Maybe I am." this was dangerous, goading him this way, but she couldn't help it, not when he looked _way_ too much like her sweet Anakin.

_Oh, you did NOT just go there, did you? Seriously?, _Obi-Wan's voice rose in consternation.

But, Vader gave her a cocky, sure grin, as sultry but rhythmic familiar music began to play from the band. She gritted her teeth. "Recognize this, Angel?" he asked, again mockingly. Of course she did. "You taught me the one dance I know to this song, my Love."

"No, I didn't teach _you._ I taught my husband this dance, not a Sith Lord." She remembered. Force, she remembered all too well. They'd never been able to enjoy one another's company at dances like this. Her Anakin...he'd wanted to dance with her, the way no one else ever would, and even though they'd never dance that way outside of the privacy of their own home, she'd taught him. Hours and hours, spent into the wee hours of the morning, teaching him the intricate moves. He'd stepped on her toes at first, had apologized profusely, but he was a quick learner. Or, he would have learned it much faster had they not frequently had to stop to engage in vigorous..._marital_ activities.

"Well, I suppose you'll have to deal with me, then." Vader smirked. "Or, do you not remember that amazing night, my Angel?"

_I can't believe this is happening, _Obi-Wan groaned in her ear.

Vader knew her well. Padme could _never_ turn down a challenge...even one so obviously meant as revenge for the outfit she'd donned for the night. So, slowly, she walked around him. He stood, still, waiting, until she was behind him, pressed up against his back, breathing him in. Force, this close….he _still_ smelled like her Ani. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her arm around his torso, hand reaching, stretching across his chest. His response was immediate, as his arm too reached up, finding her fingers, intertwining them with his own.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to remember _who_ it was she was dancing with, as he swayed one way, and she swayed the other, their hands breaking free as she moved back around to his front, their hands joining once again, her leg twining briefly around his before he spun her. Once. Twice, and then he was slowly, ever so slowly dipping her, his hands on the bare skin of her back, felt through the sheer fabric of the front of the dress. _Do_ _not_ _shudder_, she thought fiercely. "I see that your eyes are still Sith gold." She hissed. "My sister said they were blue when she saw you."

"Did she?" He breathed, his breath tickling her skin before she felt the barest of kisses on her neck just below her ear, as they reached the peak of their dip, and then they sprung back up, and he twirled her twice again before she stopped abruptly, held flush against him, her face just an inch away from his own, her one hand behind his neck, the other on the arm he'd placed around her back. He grinned wolfishly, clearly enjoying himself, and she glared at him. This was anything _but_ a lovers dance, and Vader was nothing but persistent. "Must have been a trick of the light. You're welcome, by the way."

Oh, she wanted to slap him!

Her hand moved from his neck to his shoulder as he spun her around. They twirled and spun around one another over the ballroom floor, moving as one, until again they stopped, one of his hands again on her bare back, caressing her exposed flesh, the other just below her breasts, his thumb brushing in a soft tantalizing caress against her skin through the sheer fabric of her dress. She gritted her teeth, cursing the shiver that involuntarily ran up her body. From the satisfactory glint in his eyes, she knew he'd felt it. "Why?" She demanded, as he pulled her back against him. Even through the tux, she could feel the battle-honed muscles she'd once known so intimately.

He cocked his head, slightly. "What kind of husband would I be, my Love, if I didn't make sure my wife was happy?" He said it in the same mocking tone, but she wasn't a fool. She knew he was serious, even as one of his hands moved up, running down her bare skin, leaving a trail of fire down her arm as his fingers ran the length of it until they found her hand. _Kriff_. She never should have taught him this dance, she thought as his forehead touched hers, their masks bumping slightly. They moved again, swaying slowly, sensually to the music. She moved her feet, twining her bare leg once around his, before bringing it back while he moved backwards, bringing her with him.

"I won't thank you for what never should have happened in the first place." She hissed, as again they began moving quickly, fluidly over the dance floor, chest to chest. She had to crane her neck to look up at him: She'd forgotten how tall he was. And that smile he gave her, even sardonic as it was…

"Fair enough, Darling," He said, and they twirled around one another yet again. "So. How are you going to kill Stern anyway? I'm assuming he _is _your target, yes?"

_Don't answer that_, Obi-Wan warned her.

She glared at him as they twirled again, stopping momentarily while she kicked her leg backwards, bringing it back into step as they glided forward again. "Wouldn't you like to know." She snarled. "Besides, I never kiss and tell."

Suddenly, he picked her up, and as she swung through the air, his arms tight around her body in a possessive embrace, she kicked both legs out in a mid-air split, before he set her down and they began gliding around one another again. They were less like dancers, and more like predators, waiting for the other to slip up so that the victor could pounce and claim victory. As he set her down, he growled deep in his throat, sending another shiver down her spine. "Oh, I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. Even if there is very clearly no obvious weapon on you, thanks to your attire...or should I say, lack thereof." Again, his voice was tinged with fury, his hands tightening just barely on her, his touch warm and familiar and… "Nevertheless, the only kisses you should _ever_ share with a man are with _me_, my Angel. You _do_ remember that you are _mine_, I hope." There was that dangerous edge Vader was known for. Not her Anakin at all.

_Actually, he's got a point. By all means, lay one on him. Then show's over, and we can all go home...One giant leap closer to winning this war. Kriff! I can't believe I just said that, _Obi-Wan interjected sarcastically into her ear with a sigh.

"I am Anakin Skywalker's." She replied, as she twirled in his arms, coming back into his embrace after another backwards leg kick. "Not Darth Vader's."

"So you've said. Multiple times." Vader sounded annoyed. He spun her again, so that her bare back was pressed against him, and his hands were on her waist as he held her there. His breath was warm in her ear, and she gasped when he tenderly bit and suckled her earlobe, and again she closed her eyes as shivers of unwanted pleasure ran down her back. Force, why did he have to sound and _feel _so much like him?! "Like it or not, Angel, he and I are the same person. Which means, my Love, you _do_ indeed belong to Darth Vader. You know it, and..." He began to lead her forward. "I'll have you admitting it by the end of this dance."

_Oh Force, _Obi-Wan groaned in her ear. She could well imagine the facepalm the Jedi had undoubtedly just done.

They stopped, and he held her hands as she tipped forward, slowly, before quickly twirling back around so that she was facing him again. "You're _so_ full of yourself, aren't you." She hissed as he eased her into a long, slow dip, so that she only had to reach out to touch the floor.

"Maybe." He agreed, yanking her back up, where they stopped. She stared off into the other twirling dancers, aware that he had one of her hands in a firm, twined grip, and his other was possessively on her other arm as he circled her, slowly. Stalking his prey. "But, I'm not wrong, and I aim to prove it." He whispered in her ear, before he placed a tender kiss on the shell. He stopped behind her, and again his fingers were tracing the length of her arm, bringing it back up as he pressed his cheek against hers. "Like it or not, Dearest, you're still _my_ _wife_. And, as such, I know you like no one else does...or _ever_ will."

_Pfft, _Obi-Wan snorted. Right in her ear.

They pushed forward, her leg sliding effortlessly over the marble, her heel scratching the surface ever so slightly as she turned halfway in his arms, bringing her other arm up slowly. "Two years has changed me quite a bit." She reminded him bitterly, before she suddenly was spinning quickly in his arms until finally his hands met her waist again, stopping her, her arms up in the air over her head, as they faced each other, lips only a breath apart.

She did not fail to notice how close they were, how their breath mingled, how when their chests heaved for air, they met, his nose to her cheek, as she slowly lowered her arms. He took that moment to inhale her scent deeply, before his tongue darted out to flick across her jaw, leaving a trail of liquid fire in its wake. "I don't need a blaster or a lightsaber to kill you." she said as again, their foreheads met, this time so close that their noses touched. She was even more hyper-aware of the deadly substance on her lips. She considered Obi-Wan's suggestion. All it would take was one kiss...and they'd be so much closer to winning the war. _Perhaps_, she mused, as he again dipped her slightly to the side and they began twirling again, the trifold panels of her skirt whirling around them, perhaps she _could_ kill two men tonight. _Two_ _men_ _felled_ _by_ _a simple kiss...of death_, she smirked to herself.

Another stop. Another slow dip, and more twirling, and suddenly he was leaning backwards, and she placing her knee on his as she leaned towards him, suspended, their lips again so close. Yes, she thought with a smirk, yes, she could do it. Vader caught the sudden change in her attitude, knew that something had shifted between them, and _she_ was now stalking _her_ prey. No, she could tell he didn't like that. Not one bit. "No, I don't think you will." He said, twirling her again, and this time as he ended in the dip and she brought her leg up, he did something not practiced: He grabbed her upper leg, his hand so high on her thigh, near the rounded curve of her bottom, that she involuntarily gasped as her body exploded with pleasure when he squeezed her flesh firmly but gently. He smirked. "You love me still, Angel. I _know_ you do. Even if you don't consciously admit it, your body _definitely_ unconsciously remembers it, remembers _my_ touch."

Obi-Wan suddenly emitted a choking sound in her ear, _By the Force..._

"Screw you!" She snapped, as he finally brought her back up, and this time as they began twirling and mirroring one another, it took on a new, almost feverish edge. At one point, he swung her up into the air, and she kicked backwards with both legs before landing in his arms.

"Mmmmhmmm, that's the thing, isn't it, Angel?" He said with a feral grin, his gold eyes hard with desire and determination to win their little game. "You already have, many, _many_ times over, and Luke and Leia…," He turned her again, and she leapt in his arms, kicking her legs into a brief mid-air split. "...are living proof of that fact. But, I'd be _more_ than happy to take you up on that offer again, my Love. I think you would be, too." This time, their twirls were frequently punctured with elegant kick-pops, forward, backwards, once even wrapped around his legs, bringing their hips flush together. This time, she felt _him _shudder at their proximity.

_Ok, that's...that was just TMI here. _Another pained groan from Obi-Wan reached her ear. It almost sounded like he was gagging. Poor fellow.

She snarled, her entire body quivering with anger...at least that's what she told herself it was. How _dare_ he?! How dare he mock their love like that?! "Don't you _dare_ talk in such vulgar terms about our...about what I shared with Anakin! What we had was beautiful, special, and _rare _in this galaxy." She snapped, as he twirled her around so that her back was to his chest, and he lifted her again. This time she kicked both legs backwards, aware that the movement had her brushing up against him much too close, feeling the hardness of his body and the _very_ obvious desire he felt. She swallowed thickly as she landed, aware that her quiver, this time, was not purely from anger…

He had abruptly moved in front of her, taking her in his arms again, moving her back through the dance floor. It was just them. The other people in the room didn't matter, didn't exist. In that moment, it was the Assassin and the Sith Lord, two beings irresistibly drawn towards one another, and yet pushed apart by a deep divide that could never be breached. "How can I not when you're _all_ I want, Angel? You, and our children?" He asked, twirling her again, "What must I do to prove that to you? To show you how sincere I am about wanting my wife and my children back with me where they belong?"

_Do?! _She thought, stunned. How could he even ask her that? It was too late. They both knew there was nothing, _nothing_ he could do, not after all the horrible things he'd done, all the people he'd murdered, the children he'd slain, the lives he'd destroyed…He suddenly picked her up, and this time she leapt at the same time, up and over his shoulders, twirling midair, as she moved towards his other side, where he smoothly grasped her waist, stopping her from hitting the floor, and they swung like that, her legs kicked out into a split, until she was dizzy.

He was everywhere, and nowhere all at once. His presence filled her very soul. His scent was all that she could smell. His touch was all that she could feel, even as he flung her into the final dip, where she stayed, suspended, her back arched towards him, her hair having tumbled free of the clip she'd put it in. She breathed hard in his arms, her entire body trembling, and despite herself...her spirit soared. What did she want him to do? She thought wildly, as he slowly, ever so slowly, began to pull her back up towards him, their eyes meeting. For just a moment, she thought she saw his eyes begin to flicker back to cerulean blue.

She wanted...she wanted him to be… "Anakin," she breathed longingly, the name coming unbidden to her lips, stealing her breath away.

Anakin was staring at her, his eyes hooded, their faces inching closer and closer, breath mingling, honey eyes now dark with desire. The look made her shiver, made her walls want to come down, and for one, awful, gut-wrenching moment...she thought she saw her Anakin in his face. Not Vader, but..._Anakin_. "I told you I'd get you to admit we were one in the same." He breathed, and just like that, the spell was broken, her body shuddering as if doused in ice water, and her heart shattered again into a million more pieces. The asshole. It was a struggle to keep her composure, to keep herself from breaking down. He was Vader. Not Anakin, and they were so close now, their lips so close. _This_ _is_ _it_, she thought as his eyes flickered to her lips, deciding to make the final move toward them. One kiss...and it would be over. A major victory for the Rebellion...and she could finally, properly, mourn her lost husband. She closed her eyes, her heart crying out for her Ani, as he moved to close the distance between them, the last kiss they would ever share…

And at the last second, she turned her face away, and he kissed her cheek instead.

They stood like that, her in his arms, his lips on her cheek, sliding sensuously along her jaw for what seemed like forever. But, finally, he pulled away, and Padme closed her eyes, her cheek tingling where his lips had met her skin. It took _all_ of her strength to hold in the tears that burned her eyes. She couldn't do it. She couldn't kill him...not like that, at least. Not in a way that would completely betray what they'd once been.

At least, that's what she told herself.

"Padme. I still love you, Sweetheart..._so much..._and I always will." Vader's voice, barely a whisper, sounded as anguished as she felt: It sounded so much like Anakin's voice, she thought she would collapse with grief. She couldn't do this anymore, be in his arms…she pulled away from him, and he let her go. He let her go _again_...she didn't understand it. She wanted to ask, but she didn't want to hear the answer. Hearing it would shatter the last of her walls. "Padme, my Love..._please,_" He pleaded. She was aware of him reaching his hand out to her, begging her to stay. But, she couldn't. And, they both knew it.

Right on cue, the sound of glass shattered, and then screams began to erupt from the crowd. Vader turned towards the sound, a frown maring the lips she'd once known so well, so intimately, and she used that moment to turn and push herself into the crowd, heading as fast as she could towards the exit. She half expected him to follow her, to stop her, to demand to know why she hadn't killed him (for, undoubtedly, he'd realize how she'd killed Stern the moment he saw him).

But he didn't.

As she reached the doors and broke free into the cool night air, the small, resigned voice of Obi-Wan in her ear whispered: _I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to hear any of that._

This time, tears did fall, sliding underneath her mask. "No," she whispered, knowing no one would hear her, "I'm pretty sure I shouldn't have either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, obviously Vader still has some things he needs to work out. Frankly, so does Padme. But oh MAN, this chapter was SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE. The back and forth between them...the sexy tango... the fury, the anguish, the longing... so. much. FUN. I hope it was as fun for you guys to read!
> 
> If you're interested, we based the dance off of a routine to Sway by Michael Buble or however you spell his name. If you go on youtube and search "Sway tango" it should be the first result. Posted by Graham Peters. If you go look that up, enjoy!
> 
> I am VERY interested in your reviews. I mean I always am. But this one especially. ;)


	17. The Cargo Ship

Jedha.

Padme stared down at it through the viewport, her mind wondering what it was like down there. The arid desert moon was one of the most tightly locked-down planets in all the Empire. No one knew why-yet. Any spy they'd sent down there was usually never heard from again. They never made it back to Rebel Command. If she didn't have children at home, she may have attempted to go find out what the hell was going on down there for herself. But, that wasn't the mission. Their mission was more immediate, and demanded attention now. Lives were at stake.

Literally.

They hid far enough away to be possibly visibly spotted by someone from one of the massive Imperial star destroyers orbiting the moon, their ship shut down to avoid being caught on any scanners. Obi-Wan sat at the controls, his eyes closed, waiting for the moment when the supply ship would emerge from the moon's surface, and they could attach onto it right before it did it's hyperspace jump. Padme sat in the co-pilot's seat, her arms hugging her knees drawn up to her chest, her chin resting on it as she stared down at the moon. "You know this planet used to be a holy site for the Jedi, don't you?" Obi-Wan suddenly asked into the pervading silence of the cockpit.

Padme didn't say anything for a moment. Only continued to watch the moon below, her mind wandering back to..._him_. "I know," her answer came quietly. She didn't say how she knew. She didn't need to. Anakin had told her so much about the Jedi, and a lot about the more mysterious things of their Order. Jedha, and it's powerful connection to the Force, was one of those things he'd shared with her. The thought of him, as it had in the two weeks it had been since that cursed tango dance on her last mission, sent her mind whirling back to the feel of his arms around her, his scent in her nostrils...the way his hands had made her shiver and ache for more. So much more. Memories had flooded her of the good times. Unconsciously, unbidden, unwanted.Even as her mind feverishly reminded her body over and over again that the man who had held her was a lie. Anakin was dead...and those golden eyes of his had proven it.

The ache was a near physical thing and almost unbearable.

That dance had changed something within her.

She wasn't the same now, and she knew it. She had worked so hard since she'd lost her husband to think of him as truly dead. The thought that he had turned into Darth Vader, her greatest enemy…it was unconscionable. And, that tango two weeks before had forced her to confront the truth in a way she wasn't sure she'd ever be ready for: Anakin and Darth Vader were one and the same. Just like he'd said. Perhaps...perhaps it had always been that way, and she'd willfully chosen to ignore it. The thought had plagued her for the last two weeks, had haunted her every step. Her nightly dreams were full of his hands on her body, his lips at her ear, his golden eyes staring so intently into her own, demanding she recognize who and what he was, what he'd become. It always ended with her involuntarily admitting, "_Anakin."_

Then the tears would flow. Again.

She rarely slept more than a few hours a night anymore. She forced herself to eat, if only so that Obi-Wan and Yoda, her mother and her sister, would leave her be and let her continue her missions. And, of course, for her children, who could sense the change in her mood and were just as on edge as she was now. She still had a headache from the last tantrum she'd had to settle between the twins before she'd left on this mission.

When they'd gotten into the ship and left that night, Obi-Wan had asked her a question that she hadn't dared answer. "Why? Why did you two decide to risk it all, together?" He had never asked that before. Had probably assumed it was just love, and they'd been too weak and foolhardy to fight against it, while he'd never once faltered in his Jedi duty despite loving Satine. At that moment, she couldn't answer.

And yet, as they waited and the silence stretched on around them, so many words unspoken between them, Padme found herself wanting….no, needing to speak. Perhaps doing so would calm the raging hole in her chest, threatening to eat her alive. "I was always someone who put duty above herself. Duty came first. Always. Personal feelings or needs were ignored for the greater good. That concept had been drilled into me practically my entire life on Naboo. First as Queen, then as Senator." She said, her voice tight and rough, as though she hadn't spoken in days. Obi-Wan turned to stare at her with his blue-green eyes, listening intently, thoughtfully, stroking his beard in contemplation of her words.

He didn't need to ask what she was starting to say. He knew. "My sister always joked that I'd never bother to settle down, because I threw myself so wholeheartedly into what I needed to do for my people. But, deep down, I always wanted a family of my own. I was jealous of my sister, being so carefree, able to have two beautiful girls and a husband who could provide her with love, safety, and happiness. I never thought I'd have time for that, and if I did, the risks of being with a rather controversial senator would be too much for any man to be willing to endure. But then...you and Anakin walked into my apartment, and the moment my eyes met Anakin's...I knew I was done for.

"I resisted, of course. We both did…We both tried. Even Anakin really _tried._ He loved being a Jedi. He didn't want to disappoint you-Force, he was _terrified _of that. But, I think...I think Anakin wanted a family before he ever wanted to be a Jedi. First with his mother-a family in freedom. Then, when he met me…" She paused, laughing a bitter laugh. "He told me when we first met in Watto's shop on Tatooine that he'd marry me one day. I just thought he was a sweet but funny little boy, but...maybe something in the Force just told him we were destined to marry, and he accepted it immediately, without question. And then, as a man, when he came back in my life after ten years apart...I started to wonder if he was right. But, you're not wrong, Obi-Wan. There were so, so many stupid risks in doing what we did. It's something I never would have done in any other circumstance. In fact, we initially decided against it. Like I said, we both fought the attraction and love we felt for each other. But, when we were faced with death in the arena on Geonosis, I…" she shook her head, and she felt tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

"I realized I was tired of living only for duty. That wasn't...life, Obi-Wan. That wasn't really living. It was merely existing. It gave me a sense of purpose, a sense of satisfaction that what I was doing was noble and necessary, yes, but besides that, my life was devoid of any real happiness. I was empty inside, a mere shell of a person, alive and breathing but not truly living. While Anakin always did his duty, he also lived life to the fullest. He wasn't afraid of his emotions and didn't try to squelch them. He accepted them wholeheartedly as part of who he was. He believed it was possible to both serve the Jedi and the Republic and live life with joy, happiness, and the love of a family. His family. He dreamed of what could be, of a future where those he cared deeply about would be protected. I don't think that just meant me, our children, or his mother, or you. I think that meant the whole goodness that was in this galaxy. He saw life, he participated in it, and in doing so, he created life. With me. We shared in something infinitely precious, he and I. Something rare and wonderful and good."

She looked to Obi-Wan, whose expression hadn't changed, though his eyes had darkened. "In that moment, that's what I wanted, what I needed. I wanted to be like him-to really _live life. _To...create, and protect, and love, and if consequences came with that...Well, I'd deal with them when and if they happened. That's why I chose him, Obi-Wan. That's why I married him, why I lived a lie. Because Anakin Skywalker, for all of his flaws and imperfections, made me feel alive for the first time in my life. For the only time in my life. And, I do not regret one second of the time we spent together, of the love we shared, or of the lives we created...together." And without him, she added mentally, she felt a huge part of who she had once been had died. But, as Obi-Wan quietly contemplated her words, she realized: Yes, Anakin had been flawed. But, he was different than Vader. Or...or maybe Vader and Anakin were the same. But maybe somewhere, somewhere deep, deep down within himself...perhaps her husband, her Ani, did still live. But, she wasn't sure he could ever be retrieved or revived. And that dance...that horrible, yet wonderful dance...had brought that reality crashing back down.

And by the Force, it hurt. It hurt so much that castigation within the nine Corellian hells would probably have been preferable.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Obi-Wan asked softly.

"I need to." She reached up and wiped her tears away. "Lives are at stake. Innocent ones." Beyond the view port, she saw the massive supply ship leaving the atmosphere of the planet. Obi-Wan turned to it, slightly, hesitating as his hands hovered over the controls. "Make sure you turn on the cloaking device first." Her voice was final. No turning back. No persuading. This was happening.

It was now or never. And, like she said, lives were at stake.

After another moment of hesitation, Obi-Wan nodded, and his hands finally flew over the controls, lights turning on as he went. "Don't die in there." he said. He was her getaway ship...and today, she'd slip in, do what she had to do, and get out. She smiled, though there was no joy in it. She doubted there would _ever_ be joy in her life again, like there once had been. Not without Anakin.

"There may yet come a day...but it is not this day, Obi-Wan."

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed her nerves, stood up from her chair, and made her way to the back of the ship to don her assassin's uniform. Focusing all her mental energies on the mission, the plan, she prepared to go up against the Empire once again.

For the sake of her children. For the sake of freedom.

The entire galaxy was depending on her...and she wouldn't let them down.

* * *

Golden eyes swept the lines of hyperspace swirling before him.

Disturbing.

That was it. Something was pulling at him in a way he'd not felt in a very long time.

Frustrating.

Yes, he felt that, too. Behind the mask, he pursed his lips and frowned.

Vader stood at the main viewport of the bridge, long arms crossed across his massive chest, staring as the swirls of hyperspace whooshed past them, searching the Force for...Answers? Direction? He didn't really know. All he knew, since the moment he'd stepped onto the supply ship from Jedha at the behest of his master (a punishment for how distracted he'd become the last two weeks), was that the Force demanded him to cloak his presence in it. Why, he wasn't exactly sure. But, at the constant nagging in the back of his mind, he'd finally done it before stepping aboard the ship back on Jedha to make sure the cargo got to its destination safely.

A Kyber crystal. Massive, unstable, translucent, and extremely powerful. It had taken several heavy duty cargo lifters to even maneuver the huge crystal into the cargo hold of the transport ship. Back in his days as a Jedi, it would have been deemed useless and would have been left to collect dust in the bowels of the caverns where it was found on that barren rock. But now, now it was considered highly useful in his Master's plans. Priceless even. It would be one part of an even bigger collection of crystals in what would one day be the power cell of the Death Star.

Sidious' '_pet project.'_

If Krennic could actually make it happen, of course.

Vader snorted quietly, rolling his eyes at the thought of both the project and the pompous power-chaser Krennic that Sidious had put in charge of the development of the plan. He didn't care one iota for the Emperor's dream machine. No weapon could out match the raw power of the Force. None. No matter how menacing it was. But, the Emperor didn't care what his opinion was, so Vader went along with it. Even if he wasn't exactly enthused about the idea of a planet killer.

Seriously. To Vader's mind, the ability to destroy a planet, while it would serve to strike terror across the galaxy (and thus, hopefully frighten people into towing the Imperial line), would be a ridiculous waste of valuable planetary resources. Especially highly populated or mineral rich planets. Once destroyed, those resources would be hard pressed to be found again.

Not to mention it would enrage the already stiff-necked Rebellion even more.

Of course, the former wasn't his concern, even if the after effects sure as hell would be. If he showed the slightest opposition to Sidious' plans, he'd merely be punished again, likely with another whopping dose of Sith Lightning.

And, he certainly didn't want to incur that. Hell, the last dose he'd gotten was a painful enough reminder of his place as Sidious' subordinate. And, dammit that fact chafed.

That had been just after the party and Stern's unfortunate demise, despite Vader's personal appearance at the event to prevent such a...tragedy. Just thinking about that deceased buffoon Stern brought back images, feelings, desires. Of her. _His_ Padme.

And, that dance.

Still. The Force had been..._strange_, since that tango two weeks ago. The tango that continued to haunt him, sleeping and awake. His fists clenched, and he attempted to keep the images at bay. Though the men working all around him on the bridge wouldn't see his expression from behind the helmeted mask, he didn't necessarily want to think about how close he'd gotten to losing control that night, not with them around. But, as usual, it failed, and his mind was again conjuring up images of him holding her tightly in his arms, swinging her through the air effortlessly, the way her hands had sensually touched his body...so at odds with the hatred she so vehemently claimed to have for him.

That dress. Force, that delectably revealing dress that still served to enrage and entice him even now.

He had to bite back an aroused groan once again at the vision she'd presented in that...outfit. That plunging neckline, her beautiful bare back, the alluring length of her bare legs showcased to perfection in that barely there wisp of a dress. Once again, desire flooded his veins making him uncomfortable within the confines of his suit.

_Kriff!_

His heart had soared with triumph when she'd whispered his name, had _admitted_ Vader was one and the same as her husband. He had wanted to kiss her to remind her further of that fact, had tried to kiss her actually, and for a moment he'd thought she would let him. But, she turned her face away at the last moment, and he'd ended up caressing her jaw and cheek with his kisses.

Then her target had died suddenly. He'd lost concentration...and when he realized what was really happening, that Padme had killed the man with _poison _from her own damn lips, he'd turned back to her, but she was gone. Just like that. Tango, done. Padme's admission….a thing of the past. The chemistry between them, broken. The ache in his chest had felt heavier in that moment than it had since he'd discovered she was still alive but now hated him.

But, he took comfort in one fact. A very telling fact. Whether she admitted it or not.

She'd had a chance to kill him, a chance literally _no one_ since he'd become Darth Vader had ever gotten close to, and...she'd turned her head away. She'd spared his life.

So, against every impulse screaming at him to do otherwise, he hadn't gone after her. He'd reigned in his primal desires to throw her over his shoulder and drag her back on board his ship and force her to stay and listen to him, to reconcile with him, and had remained there to handle the fallout of the assassination. He'd gotten back into that cursed suit and had made a huge fuss about the guest of honor dying. He'd even endured his master's subsequent wrath and torture with that horrid lightning. Yet, it had been worth it. She'd _spared_ his life. She'd whispered his name almost adoringly, achingly on her lips. It was progress.

Or...so he'd thought. Until he'd dragged his sore and twitching body to his desk in his private quarters to pull up the holofeed of his family and had found a completely different Padme on screen before him. Gone was the determination. Gone was the fire that drove her to recklessly throw herself into danger, consequences be damned. In its place was a hollow shell of a woman, exhausted, pale, drawn, quiet...barely functioning throughout the day. And, it affected his children too, so sensitive to the Force were they. The woman who birthed them, loved and cared for them was incredibly upset, and they couldn't even comprehend _why._

But Vader knew. The moment he'd seen her, he'd _known_. This...this was all his doing. He'd lost control. In his jealousy, he'd baited her, had used his intimate knowledge of his wife to get a knee-jerk reaction out of her. He'd mocked their own intimacy, their marital relations, with a stupid cruel joke, clever though it had seemed at the time. He'd approached the walls she'd built to protect herself, and he'd taken a battering ram to them, assuming she just erected them to spite him in her own anger.

He'd reflected much on that short verbal exchange the last two weeks. Examined every nuance of the words spoken...hers _and_ his.

And, maybe...maybe those walls hadn't just been to spite him, or push him away and hold him at bay. Maybe...maybe she was just as devastated about what had happened between them as he was, and it had been her method of coping. Just as his full immersion in the Dark Side had been _his_ coping method.

His loss of control had hurt his wife deeply. Again. This time, it wasn't physical. This time, it was emotional, mental...and he wasn't sure it was any better than that horrible night on Mustafar. In fact, if he was honest, it was probably worse. Just as it always did the last couple of weeks, the thought made him sick to his stomach. The first time he'd realized it, he'd actually stumbled to the fresher to throw up, images of his most recent offense mixing with images of him Force choking his beloved heavily pregnant wife. He'd promised himself he wouldn't hurt her again, and yet...here he was, hurting her again. History repeating itself.

He really was a monster.

But, thankfully, this time as he began dwelling on those thoughts, searching the Force as he had multiple times for answers on what to do to fix the situation...something...brushed against his conscience. He froze, stretching out with the Force, careful to cloak his own presence should it be danger. Immediately, his mood soured as he recognized the presence.

Obi-Wan.

What in kriffing hells was _he _doing here?! Instantly, Vader's mind jumped to the Kyber crystal he was supposed to protect. Had his old master somehow found out about the crystal? About what it was being used for? No...impossible. He'd made sure the crystal was protected at the highest cost, and only the highest level of security clearance within the Empire knew of the Death Star.

So, how…? Why…?

But, Obi-Wan was forgotten almost instantly as he stretched even further out with the Force and found yet _another_ horrifyingly familiar presence. One that had just broken into the supply ship and was currently sneaking her way slowly through the twisting halls of the ship. Abruptly, without even thinking, he pivoted, striding quickly from the deck. No one bothered to spare anything but a nervous glance at him. They didn't question him-they wouldn't dare risk their puny lives like that. Except that today, he would have just ignored them, for he was currently hyperfocused on the one presence that was onboard the ship at that very moment that shouldn't have been there. One only known to himself.

Padme. Likely, as Nightblade.

And, he highly doubted she realized he was even there.

What in the living Force was she doing there?! _Kriff!_ Again, as he made his way with long, hurried strides through the ship to the turbolifts and down towards the private shuttle he'd parked within one of the many cargo hangars, he tried to think of any reason she'd be there. He was certain that the Kyber crystal was secret, but there was literally no other reason she could be there apart from that. His plans to be on board this ship had not been documented. Hell, even the ship's captain hadn't known until he'd shown up. So, she certainly wasn't there to assassinate him, thank the Force. That would be...awkward, to say the least. But, there was no other personnel on board who had done anything even remotely close to drawing the ire of the Rebellion to the point of needing assassination. The ship's personnel were all just pawns in the Empire's machine. Nothing more.

So...she _had_ to know about the crystal. There was simply no other explanation. Dammit.

He could have faced her as Vader. He seriously doubted she'd give him any answers as to how she'd found out what was being exported from Jedha. Worse, he wasn't yet sure how he could face her after he'd so thoroughly hurt her. Again. No, Vader would just make her upset again, he decided minutes later, as he reached his private, nondescript shuttle left so innocuously in the empty hangar. The ramp was already lowered, expectantly waiting for when they'd dock at their destination, and he could make a quick getaway back towards his personal ship, the _Executor_. He opened the hatch to his secret compartment, and pulled out his other persona.

This was a job for Sandstorm.

He dressed quickly in the outfit of his alter ego. Actually, in the time since she'd last met with Sandstorm, he'd done quite a number of smaller side 'missions' as the mysterious Jedi in hiding. Nothing big, or even detrimental to the Empire. Just small things that made that little band of rebels she'd introduced him to happy, and who would therefore report good things back to both her and her Rebel Command about him. So, it wasn't completely unlikely that Sandstorm would show up here, with Jedha being such a prime target for infiltration. Jedi were good at that, after all. But, he wasn't sure what to do about Obi-Wan. A quick check on the man told Vader that the older Jedi had stayed in what was likely a getaway ship in another, often unused, hangar on the opposite side of the ship. So, that meant he could help Padme without interference...and then he'd somehow have to find a way to split up from her.

He paused as he secured the voice modulator, fully dressed now, the hood drawn up over him, the mask securely in place. Frankly, he had no idea what the kriff he was going to do about this whole plan. Not that he had one. He couldn't exactly let Padme find out about why they were transporting the crystal, but it would be extremely suspicious if he kept her away from it. Maybe he could maneuver the situation so that she would find the crystal, but wouldn't find out why the Empire bothered to have it. Maybe...Hell, he had no idea.

But, he couldn't just stand there and let her ruin this one mission either. Not this time. The wrath he would face from Sidious if that happened….he actually shuddered as he bounded out of the door, keeping to the shadows as he raced towards where Padme was, making sure his presence was fully cloaked from detection from Obi-Wan, who likely was hyper aware of what Padme was doing as well.

Though he'd had to avoid multiple squads of Stormtroopers, he reached her level quite easily. It helped when he had the Force and was able to either stay fully hidden in the shadows, or direct curious onlookers' attention elsewhere. He slowed his pace, willing himself to calm his racing heart as he moved stealthily towards where she herself was stealthily avoiding Stormtroopers. He paused as two more troopers walked past on patrol, the hallways so narrow that he barely could fit behind an abandoned crate in time. But, soon enough, they'd stalked past, their footsteps fading away, and he breathed out a sigh in relief, about to move out…

The sudden snap-hiss of a lightsaber was his only warning. Damn! How'd she do that? He elected to freeze, as a glowing purple blade entered his vision briefly...before quickly moving away. "Sandstorm?!" Padme, Nightblade, whispered incredulously. Vader slowly turned and looked up to find her staring down at him with wide eyes over her own mask.

_I'm so sorry, Angel! _Were the first words that wanted to be blurted out of his mouth. It...wouldn't make sense in this situation though. Not as Sandstorm. So, he quirked an eyebrow lazily, acknowledging her with wry amusement in his voice. "Nightblade. Are you _usually_ in the habit of threatening people with…" Wait a minute. He'd taken her..._his_...lightsaber from her. He frowned, looking at the weapon still humming in her hand. Another kriffing lightsaber...and not one he'd seen before. Purple blade with a smooth silver handle that curved just slightly. It was much smaller than his own blue blade had been. Better suited to her body size and fighting style. Nice weapon. Reminded him of Naboo and seemed perfect for his wife. She'd always loved the color purple after all. And, there was only one person who could've made it for her. Damn him! But nice though it was, that still didn't mean he appreciated Obi-Wan making it for his wife. Like always - interfering where he didn't belong...Usually in the middle of his and Padme's marriage.

"I didn't realize you were Force sensitive."

At the pointed look at her new lightsaber, Padme sheathed it smoothly with another snap-hiss. "I'm not. It was a gift. From another Jedi friend." There was a question in her voice, as if she wasn't sure how he'd react to finding out about another hidden Jedi.

"Was that before or after the Purge?" He asked, his voice like ice. He couldn't help the strong surge of jealousy he felt flare in his system at his former master, and he realized he'd have to be _very _careful if he didn't want to inadvertently tip her off as to his real identity. If Padme had needed a new lightsaber, thenhe should have been the one to make it for her. Not Obi-Wan. Of course, Vader would have preferred she not have a lightsaber at all. Not being Force sensitive, using the weapon of a Jedi presented an increased danger for his wife in handling and using the weapon. On the other hand, given the fact that she would continue to go on missions against the Empire, Vader acknowledged the odds were stacked considerably more in her favor with the ancient weapon in hand. And, for her own protection, he admitted he would prefer she had every advantage she could get.

Not to mention how badass she was at handling a lightsaber. Even he could admit that.

"After. Recently, in fact." Still no mention of names. Nevermind that. He'd already put the pieces together and figured out where she'd gotten the blasted thing from, and it was an effort _not _to get angry again and give in to the Dark Side. He couldn't afford his eyes turning gold just now. She didn't trust him that much. Not yet. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." He stood and began moving again, as though he'd had a purpose. He didn't, but they weren't about to sit and share idle chit chat when they were currently dressed as Imperial enemies.

"You first." Nightblade was ever the stubborn one. In spades. Still, it was more animation in her voice than he'd heard from her since that tango. Despite it all, he couldn't help but feel slightly relieved. It was some small improvement.

"I was trying to find out what they were doing on Jedha." He said, carefully. Nice answer. Vague, not giving anything away.

Stunned silence met his remark. Then, "Did you find out anything?"

He shook his head. "No. But, then I saw them loading a bunch of things in here and...well, I stowed away."

"We've been trying to get operatives into Jedha for weeks...not one has returned." The words were incredulous. "But, I guess being a Jedi has its perks, right?"

He almost snorted at that. A life of waiting around while the galaxy took advantage of them? A life without love or attachments or any sort of feelings whatsoever? Just duty, duty, and more duty? Some perks. "So, if you haven't been able to get operatives back, why are you here?"

Another silence, as if she was debating whether to reveal her mission. "I'm here to free the slaves."

Vader stopped in his tracks, whirling, blue eyes wide as he searched her own concerned eyes. She was wrong. Someone had grossly misinformed her. There were no slaves being transported on this ship. He was certain of that. Sidious knew how Vader felt about slavery. While he basically ignored what Sidious was doing with slaves across the galaxy, he had made it clear to his master that hewould have no part in it. Never. Not after… "How do you know this?" Even with the voice modulator, his voice was clipped, shocked. Padme blinked in surprise.

"A distress signal got through." Padme replied smoothly, unaffected by the change in his mood. "Was that not why you got on board?"

He barely heard the question. He whirled back around, trying and failing to control his breathing as his fists clenched, his jaw tight. Immediately, he stretched out, looking at ALL presences on the ship, looking for any that were out of place…

At first, nothing was out of the ordinary. Just the normal bored and apprehensive soldiers and Stormtroopers. He began to breathe out in relief, knowing she was wrong, that whatever intel she'd received was wrong, and he could send her back on her way with the crystal - and its ultimate destination - still protected. But then…_there_. No. It couldn't be! But, the Force didn't lie. Double checking, he was both horrified and sickened to find a mass of terrified presences just a few levels below. Innocent ones. In an area of the ship that Vader suspected was a single big cargo container.

_Damn you, Sidious!_

"I came here in desperation to find out what was happening on Jedha, but…," His voice, though modulated, was tight, almost strangled. "This.._.this_ is far more important." He took a deep breath, making sure he was calm, that his presence was still hidden in the Force, as he turned to face his wife. "Two floors below. That's where they are. And, we're getting them out of here."

There was no room for argument in his voice, but he didn't need to worry about Padme protesting.

She nodded grimly, motioning forward. "Lead the way, Jedi." This time, he didn't scoff at the name, merely turned and did as he was told. For once, even being in Padme's presence wasn't enough to keep his full focus on her. Instead, his mind whirled with fury, with outrage at the outright betrayal. Sidious knew. Damn him! Vader had no doubt of that fact. And, his master had sent him here anyway. Not as a guardian of the much vaunted Kyber crystal, but as a mere delivery boy for slaves. This time, the old Sith Lord had gone too far. But, he didn't have time to worry about that now. He would deal with Sidious later.

First, he had slaves to free.

They were silent as they wound their way through narrow, suffocating, dimly lit hallways. Normally, he would have relished the time to be with her, to hear her voice, modulated as hers was, but he couldn't trust himself to open his mouth right now. It was all he could to to keep from raging and losing control to the Dark Side, killing every blasted Imperial on that ship. But Padme, as they found a turbolift without guards, decided against silence. "Thank you. For helping me help them."

They entered the turbolift, and Vader hit the button for two floors below. Immediately, the door shut and whisked them down to the level where the slaves were being held. "You don't need to thank me for this." He replied stiffly. "Those are innocent lives down there. Lives that don't deserve a life of subjugation in slavery." He was stunned to realize he still meant it, with every fiber of his being. With that realization, the Force seemed to whisper to him, _So, why do you stand by and let it happen when you can't see it?_

"I know." Padme said, her voice a little louder in the lift. "It's just...I'm sure there were other things you were doing."

"They can wait." A pause, as he realized that it probably would seem weird if he didn't ask about the Jedi she mentioned earlier. "Who was the Jedi who made you that lightsaber?" It was a miracle he sounded like he didn't already know who it was.

A hesitation again as the lift slowed to a stop. "It's not my place to tell." She finally said, as the doors whooshed open and they quickly exited. "You'll likely meet him anyway when we get those people out of here."

And, if he did that, no amount of hiding in the Force would keep Obi-Wan from knowing who he was. It only worked at longer distances. It worked if the person was standing right next to them as well, but they'd have to be not as strong or observant with the Force. Obi-Wan was both strong, and _way _too observant for his own damn good. "He's here?" He tried to sound incredulous, but he wasn't sure if he managed it. They were getting closer and closer to where he could sense those terrified souls. Force, how could he have been so kriffing blind?...Dammit, how many times had this happened already without his knowledge?!

Knowing Sidious, too damn many to count.

"He's our getaway ship." Obi-Wan must have either been very careless with his wife, or else he trusted her abilities far too much if he allowed himself to be a mere getaway driver for this mission.

"What, you're going to leave in the middle of hyperspace?" He asked, though he, of course, knew the answer already.

"With an experienced pilot, it's possible to do so and not get ripped to pieces. Especially if that pilot is Force sensitive." A pause. "You must not be much of a pilot if you didn't know that."

That did cause a snort from him, and he opened his mouth to reply...and promptly shut it as they turned the last corner, and he quickly pulled Padme behind a crate. Instantly, she was on alert, asking no questions, as Vader slowly peered out from behind the crate. Two Death Troopers stood at the door, speaking to one another in their scrambled language. Had Vader been wearing his helmet, he would have been able to tell what they were saying. He reached out with the Force for the inside of that room. No other Stormtroopers were there, but they would likely come running the moment they engaged those Death Troopers.

He leaned back, bumping the back of his head against the crate, pondering what to do. He could easily kill both troopers now with a quick crushing of their windpipes...but that wasn't exactly very Jedi-like. "What are they?" Padme asked, bewildered and concerned. Even not being Force-sensitive, she could tell there was something...differentabout these troopers.

"Death Troopers. They're elite." He kept it simple, didn't bother explaining they were Krennic's little lackeys. But, Vader understood plenty. So, these slaves were for that oaf Krennic. Likely to work on his stupid Death Star. He clenched his teeth. "They're _not_ going to go down easy."

"I never said I wanted it to be easy." But, despite the bold words, he could feel apprehension of the unknown rolling off of her. "No chance of sneaking up on them, is there?"

Vader shook his head. "Not in that position, no." He replied, his mind whirling to figure out a way to get them all out of this. "The moment we engage, the rest of the ship will be notified of our presence." He glanced at her, quirking an eyebrow. "If I keep your path clear, do you think you could get those people off the ship, and as quickly as possible?"

Padme's eyes narrowed, but she nodded. As determined to do her duty as ever. Good. He was gratified to see her resolve was still intact after what he'd last done to her at the party. "We'll get off this ship alive." She promised, and then added for emphasis, "_All_ of us."

He simply nodded. He didn't mention that the moment he was sure she and the prisoners were safe and in the clear, he would be splitting off from them. But, he smiled grimly behind his mask all the same. "That's the spirit." He said. They waited a moment, staring at one another, before Vader nodded and leapt out from behind the crate, his lightsaber-Anakin's lightsaber, the handle covered by leather though it was, springing to life, as he charged at the Death Troopers.

Even with his considerable Force enhanced speed, the troopers saw him coming, and one of them, as he'd predicted, got something out over the comm with that gargled vocal interference right before he reached them, and with a massive Force push, sent them flying backwards and down the hallway. Wasting no time, sensing Padme right behind him, her own lightsaber now ignited, he stabbed his lightsaber into the lock mechanism holding the door. Instantly, it's connections severed, and it whooshed open, revealing terrified and startled slaves of nearly every conceivable race cowering in a dimly lit, grimey, sweltering room. The conditions - and the smell - made him bristle with renewed fury, but he didn't have time to worry about that right now. The troopers were back on their feet and had begun shooting their blasters in his direction.

"Get them out, now!" He ordered, as he began deflecting blaster bolts with ease, sending them back towards their target. Had they been normal Stormtroopers, they would have been down immediately, but he wasn't lying when he said they were the elite. The Death Troopers were the best of the very best in the Empire. Not hard enough to deter him, true, but a major annoyance still, for sure.

And, he couldn't help a flash of concern that they might be too much for Padme to handle, despite all her superb skills and training.

Shaking that thought off, he focused his immediate energy and efforts on clearing the pathway for them to exit. As Padme began directing the terrified prisoners out of the room, Vader pressed forward, running and deflecting blaster fire at the same time, heading without fear towards the two Death Troopers. It was almost like being back in the Clone Wars-Padme at his back, ready to fight as necessary, while he took the brunt of it. But this time, Padme was more than capable of standing on her own, which she proved effortlessly as three Stormtroopers rounded the far corner behind them, and immediately opened fire. The terrified prisoners screamed and ducked, but Padme was there, calmly twirling her saber and deflecting each and every blaster bolt, maybe not quite as gracefully as he did it, but smoothly and effectively nonetheless. Despite it all, Vader had to admit she'd been taught rather well by Obi-Wan if she was that effective.

And, while a quick flare of jealousy swept through him at the thought of Obi-Wan training _his_ wife like that, in that moment, he was also surprisingly grateful to the older Jedi as well. If his former master hadn't trained her, they'd likely be kriffing screwed about now. For once, Vader was actually glad for Obi-Wan's meddling.

He reached the Death Troopers, using the Force to smash them into opposite sides of the wall, and before they could recover, he slashed his blue blade across both of their chests, slicing clean through. They slumped to the floor, dead. Elite or not, he was still a Jedi...Umm, wait, no, a _Sith Lord. Yeah, that's what I am. The Dark Lord of the Sith. _He was the most powerful Force sensitive in the galaxy, perhaps only rivaled by that of his own children. None of Krennic's puny men could withstand him.

He whirled back, racing for the end of the corridor, where the two Stormtroopers had now become five, though two lay sprawled dead in the hallway. Padme still defended their group vigorously, her purple blade singing and swirling through the air nonstop, as the prisoners continued to crawl out from the cargo hold behind her. He stopped at her side, joining in the fray. "These are just the ones on this level!" He said through gritted teeth, his own blue blade whirling to help block the increased shots fired their way. "Don't bother killing all of them-Just the ones in our way!"

He hoped that sounded reasonable to her. After all, _how _could he explain such carnage to Sidious, if a whole kriffing legion of Stormtroopers ended up cut down on an Imperial controlled vessel? His master was going to be pissed as hell as it was that the slaves had gotten free.

Not that that was any of her concern.

"I know that!" She snapped back, but now that he was covering her, she whirled, motioning for the newly freed slaves to stand and follow her. Vader kept deflecting, the Dark Side calling at him to turn these troopers into dust but...no. He wouldn't give in, not now. Not when he, Sandstorm (_not _Vader), had a reputation to uphold, to garner Padme's trust...but also to not frighten these poor people more than they clearly already were. So, he watched their backs as they made their way back towards the turbo lift, deflecting bolts back that hit their deadly mark time and time again. But, unfortunately, more troopers were beginning to arrive, and it was all he could do to keep going. Still, he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel the pulsating rush of adrenaline blazing white-hot through his system, giving him that wonderful high, that thrill of accomplishment that he'd so enjoyed as a Jedi. A feeling that, he had to admit, had been decidedly lacking since donning the mantle of Sith Lord. In that moment, he realized...

He'd missed it...missed _this, _missed _helping _people instead of humiliating and hurting them for the Empire's own twisted needs and goals.

And, for a second, he felt his chest constrict with emotion, making it hard to breathe.

_I can't focus on this now!_

They reached the turbolift, and the prisoners began filing in. Thankfully, there weren't too many to fit in one go. But, as they filed in, Padme was back at his side, helping, bolts deflected back at enemies not as frequently but still, it was something most non-Force sensitives couldn't do at all. He might have been more impressed, had their lives not been in such peril. Finally, the last of the prisoners was in the turbo lift. "Go." He ordered.

"Already ahead of you." Sure enough, she was already in. "Get in, now!"

This time, it was he who heeded her, and he stepped into the lift, the doors swishing closed. For a few moments, blasts continued hitting the doors, but soon the sound faded away as the lift began to rise. "I assume we're going straight to the level where your getaway ship is, correct?" He growled, his body still tense. There would surely be more troopers waiting for them when the doors opened. He would see her through, then he'd split.

"Yeah." Padme whispered back.

"Are...are you Jedi?" A small timid voice asked from behind them. Both Padme and Vader turned their heads, being too squished to fully turn around in the packed lift. Behind them, a young Twi'lek girl, no more than sixteen at most, stared wide-eyed at them, smushed up between two other adults, one an older human male, the other a Cerean female.

How to answer that? Vader frowned. When these people were freed, surely they would tell their story to others in the galaxy. The idea that Jedi were running around looting Imperial ships carrying Kyber crystals would surely send Sidious into a raging panic. Even worse, he couldn't exactly come out and admit he was Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith. That would definitely cause a panic. Not to mention piss his wife off royally and ruin all of his carefully laid plans to woo her back to him. "Not anymore." Was what he decided to go with. There. Neutral, revealing not too much of who they were, but just enough to get these people to maybe trust them.

The prisoners glanced at one another, murmuring in hushed whispers amongst themselves, but the Twi'lek girl managed a small, albeit sad smile. "Thank you. For coming to rescue us."

Vader couldn't say anything. He was too choked up to speak. Had it not been for Padme, he likely never would have known these people were even here. Unknowingly, he would have delivered these people to their new masters, like some kind of...of slaver. The idea made him feel disgusting, dirty, and used in the most reprehensible way possible. Sidious had violated the trust he'd once had in him in the most heinous of ways, deliberately mocking him behind his back with his own past as a slave. He turned away, swallowing the bile and anger that threatened to make him lose his tight control over the Force.

"Of course." It was Padme who spoke, kindly, reassuringly. "When we received your distress signal, we were immediately dispatched by the Rebellion to come rescue you."

In any other circumstance, he would have ridiculed her for turning the Rebellion's propaganda on these people. But, in this instance, she was right. The Rebellion had done something brave and respectable and _right_ in working to free these innocent people. All he'd done for two years was either cause destruction, or stand by, turning the other cheek as it were, while lives were ruined and destroyed...all for the 'good' of the Empire. If his mother could see him now…

She'd be ashamed.

Before he could dwell on that more, the lift opened, and mercifully, they found themselves staring face to face with a whole squad of troopers. A perfect excuse to file that thought away for...for never. Vader and Padme immediately acted, both of them re-igniting their sabers as they threw themselves into the fray, blocking more blaster bolts as they charged, leaping, stabbing their blades through the pathetic excuses of armor as they went. Both of them together moved in sync, as though they were two deadly dancers weaving a lethal dance, carving Stormtroopers through with ease. At one point, Vader heard Padme cry out in pain, and he whirled around to find that a Stormtrooper had managed to hit her across the face with the butt of his blaster. But, before Vader could lose his cool and destroy him, Padme lunged forward with a snarled grunt, slicing upwards with her lightsaber in one smooth move and sliced the trooper's head clean off.

_Good, _he thought darkly, as he moved in closer to her to make sure she was well protected.

That was too damn close. And, he wouldn't lose her again.

Finally, the last trooper was dead, and the way was clear to the hangar. "Go!" He ordered, pointing toward the hangar bay, his mind already racing ahead. Obi-Wan was close. He could feel him in the Force. If he got any closer, his cover would be blown. "I'll take up the rear." Where he could figure out how to escape unnoticed.

Padme didn't question it. She was already moving forward, guiding the others towards the open blast doors leading to the hangar where Obi-Wan's getaway ship likely was waiting. He waited, watching himself as the last of the slaves rushed past, pausing as he waited for his opportunity…

Just as he'd suspected, another squad of troopers came running around the corner.

"Sandstorm!" Padme called out, as Vader turned to face them. In the Force, he could feel her start to come back for him, to fight by his side, and while that thought made him proud, he also couldn't allow her to do that. Not if he wanted her to escape unscathed with the slaves...and not if he didn't want her to find out who he really was. He whirled, aiming his lightsaber at the lock mechanism next to the blast doors, and stabbed it in, the door rushing shut.

"Get them out now! I'll find my own way out!" He yelled, as the doors slammed shut between them. The last thing he saw was her dark, concerned eyes, wide with horror as he disappeared from view. Confident that she and Obi-Wan would escape unhurt with the slaves, he nodded once in grim satisfaction, pleased to have thwarted Sidious' vile plan for theseslaves at least.

The moment the doors shut, however…

He shook that thought off, grinned darkly, and turned back to the amassed troopers before him. Now, he didn't need the facade of Sandstorm. _Now_, he could be who he _really_ was - the Dark Lord of the Sith…and these troopers were going to _pay._

He would see to that _personally._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vader clearly has more thinking to do! <3 I want things to start picking up for Vader at this point, cuz I want more family stuff. The Tango was really a turning point. But some important things need to happen first.
> 
> The songs for this chapter are: Tightrope from Greatest Showman, and Costa Rican Standoff by Michael Giachino or however you spell his name.


	18. Ryloth

Heavy footsteps thundered across the floor.

Several small carrier droids stopped, pivoted, and scattered in various directions, as fast as their tiny wheels could carry them.

He was on the move - and _not_ in the mood to be trifled with. Even by a droid.

Vader swept into his communications room, black cloak billowing behind him. He was shaking with pure rage, his gloved hands fisted, fingers flexing, and as the call connected to his so called '_Master,'_ he didn't even bother to bow or kneel. No. He wasn't going to bow to the man who had broken his trust-again.

He'd used him. To transport slaves.

The one thing Vader would _never_ do, no matter how deep in the Dark Side he was...and he'd unwittingly done it. He'd been played for a fool, and he was too angry to care that, when the Emperor's image appeared before him, the first words snarled out of his mouth through gritted teeth were, "How many times have you used me to transport slaves?!"

If the Emperor was surprised, he didn't show it. He'd probably already heard that the slaves, unlike the kyber crystal, had never reached their destination, and that most of Vader's crew was dead. Vader didn't give a damn. "Lord Vader." On the surface, the Emperor's voice was calm, at ease, but Vader knew the traitor well enough by now that he could hear the edge in his voice. "I take it the missing slaves are _your_ doing?"

"Of course not!" Vader snapped, though he mentally checked his shielding to make sure his master wouldn't sense the lie. Nope. Impenetrable. Stronger than durasteel. "But I found out when I interrogated the captain as to why the rebels were after the ship-not for the kyber crystal, but to rescue slaves!"

"And fools they are, putting so much at risk for such pathetic, insignificant beings, when there was a much greater prize to have been won." The Emperor replied, and Vader bristled. Insignificant beings?!...Those people...those beings...they weren't insignificant, they were…"_I'm a person!" _A small, youthful voice echoed in his head. He paused, gasping in air to lungs that suddenly seemed to close and cease functioning, as a long ago memory washed over him.

In his mind, he saw a much younger Padme staring at him in Watto's shop, looking embarrassed for the way she'd phrased the question of his slavery. Vader pushed the thought vigorously out of his mind, should the Emperor sense it...but the point he'd made to Padme all those years ago still stuck with him. Those so called '_insignificant_ _beings'_ were people, people who had thoughts and feelings, who had loved ones…

And he'd stood by while so many, many more innocent sentients had been enslaved across the galaxy.

"Be that as it may, you _used_ me!" Vader replied heatedly, "How many times has this happened?! How many times have you done this? Used me this way? You swore you'd _never…"_

Vader only had a hint of fury flash through the Emperor's gaze before a wave of Sith lightning seemingly appeared out of nowhere, striking him in the chest so hard it threw him off of his feet and sent him spiraling into the back wall. He slammed into the wall hard, the breath literally knocked out of him, and he had barely a second to recover before another wave hit him, sucking the air right out of him.

Force lightning. And, a heavy dose of it at that.

Even light years away across the galaxy, being able to see the victim through a holoscreen...it was possible to use the Dark Side of the Force in such a way. He'd done so numerous times himself whenever he'd contacted an agent he was displeased with...except he didn't torture his victims. He just straight up choked them to death, snapping necks with a simple twist of his wrist. He wasn't sure which was worse...but he felt like his body was disconnected from his soul, and when the pain finally stopped, he saw smoke literally rising from his body.

"Let me be clear, Lord Vader." The Emperor's voice was full of disdain and displeasure. "This is my Empire, and you are but a servant of that Empire. Nothing more. My word is law, and if I decide not to tell you something because I knew you'd act childishly, then I won't tell you. That is at my discretion. I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you. You do as I say, and you will do it without question." There was a pregnant, threatening pause. "Am I understood, Lord Vader?!"

Vader took a few moments to force air back into his lungs, his mind struggling to hold back the scathing response lingering on his tongue. He was wrong. The Emperor was wrong about this. And, if he was wrong about _this…_Then what else was he wrong about?

"Yes, my Master." Vader finally ground out.

"Good. Now get up. I've reviewed the footage taken from the ship." Vader struggled to his feet, again checking his mental shields. He'd, of course, doctored the footage himself so that his master wouldn't be able to pick up on who the rebels in the footage were-especially his own involvement. "You have viewed the footage, I trust." It wasn't a question. Vader had made a deliberate show of acting as though he and Sandstorm were two completely separate people, and he was trying to find out who he was.

"Yes, my master." Vader's voice rumbled through the mask, still bitter but respectful enough for Sidious' taste. Just barely.

"There are _two_ of them now." There was an edge to Sidious' voice. "What do you make of the male?"

Vader considered his words carefully. He couldn't just make up whatever he wanted to attempt to throw Sidious off of his trail. The lie would be seen through far too easily. Unfortunately. Sidious was a wily bastard after all. No. He'd need to give just enough truth to satisfy his master. "Unlike the known assassin, this one is an actual Force wielder." He paused, wondering if that would be enough, but Sidious stared coldly at him, waiting for more. "He does not behave like a Jedi. He murdered too many after being separated from the assassin."

"Yes," Sidious mused, and Vader internally breathed a sigh of relief. "That does not mean that he wasn't at some point, Vader. Desperate times call for desperate measures. What is clear, however, is that the assassin has now partnered up with a substantial threat. Now, more than ever, your mission is to find them, and _end_ _them."_

Vader was careful not to let his turbulent emotions show as he bowed his head. "Yes, my master."

There was a pause, and Vader thought that perhaps the conversation was over. But then, "But…Before you seek them out, I have another matter which requires your specific talents and attention. I grow tired of the rebellious activity on Ryloth. I am ordering you to bring your fleet there and bombard the planet. The _entire_ planet."

Before, Vader would have accepted this mission unfailingly, without complaint. However, now, he paused. Ryloth had been quite a struggle during the Clone Wars. Their populace had never entirely settled down since. It's people were quite...displeased with the way the Empire treated them. Before, he wouldn't have cared two dweezil sticks whether they were displeased or not. What the Empire said, went. Period. Now, though, he remembered the Twi'lek slave girl he'd rescued from the ship, and he couldn't help but see the Rylothians' point. "The entire planet, master?"

"Yes, Lord Vader. As I said...The entire planet. I want an example to be made of them. When done, send troops in to take control of the remaining survivors and set up a puppet government. I will handle matters from there." Vader could sense the Emperor gauging his reaction to this, as though Sidious sensed the turbulent emotions running through him…Which, truthfully, Vader wouldn't be surprised if he could. Dammit.

Another head bow. "Yes, my master. It will be done."

There was another long pause. "Good. See that it is, or I will be _most_ displeased." There was a warning edge laced in his voice, and the holocall cut off, leaving Vader alone.

It took a long time, too long actually, for Vader to struggle to get his feet moving and limp back into his quarters on legs that labored to work properly, using the wall for support. Thank the Force none of his crew had witnessed such a weak moment. As he entered his private apartment suite, he slowly began stripping off pieces of the kriffing armor, dropping them, piece by piece, to the floor.

By the time he had reached the fresher, he stood in just his black pants and boots, staring at his own reflection in the newly repaired mirror. He expected...Hell, he didn't know what he expected. But it certainly wasn't what he saw. Defeat. Disgust. Not because he had lost any battles recently, but because...this person staring back at him wasn't who he thought he'd become.

Silently, his gaze swept over his own features, critically assessing as it went.

This person was empty, only filled by anger and hate...and for what? What did it give him? What had been his reward for the choices he had made? It certainly wasn't what he'd originally sought, no. Not the beloved wife and loving family he'd sacrificed everything for.

Instead, he'd lost those most precious to him only to gain...

A master who had never actually been his friend at all, a man who had only sought to use and exploit him for his powers. Just as the Jedi had-maybe worse than the Jedi had.

Staring at his countenance, Vader silently reflected on his actions '_in_ _the_ _name_ _of_ _the_ _Empire.'_ Each and every one of them flashed through his mind like a holovid in hyperdrive.

Countless beings dead at his hands. Innocent people. People who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, or who happened to make a mistake while he was in a bad mood. People who didn't deserve to die. Children who didn't deserve to die. Jedi younglings who had looked to him for help when he'd entered the council room that awful night…

He had legions of soldiers, spies, and agents under his command. A ship of loyal crew...yet he was alone. They gave him their loyalty - not because he _deserved_ it or had earned it- as General Skywalker had with the 501st, no. But again, because they saw his power in the Force and assumed it was greater than the Emperor's. He was alone, truly alone.

He'd destroyed the very best thing he'd ever had, and now was left with nothing. Less than nothing.

He'd imagined that joining the Sith would somehow make his dreams come true. He'd stop being bullied. He'd have power to change the galaxy for the better, to bring peace to it. He imagined that he could save his wife, could let the truth of their relationship finally be known, and that he could raise his children without fear of them being taken from him by some misguided Order. But, as he looked into the golden-eyed reflection in the mirror, he saw none of that.

He only saw a monster.

A man twisted by evil, just as Padme had said.

Monster. The word echoed in his brain, screamed at him. The truth slamming into him like a charging rancor...Yes, he _was_ a monster. A monster who, for some unfathomable reason, was still trying to turn a bad situation around and dig himself out of a hole he'd made himself. But, the hole was getting deeper, and it was suddenly hard to breathe.

Why? _Why_ the hell was he still taking orders from Sidious? Why was he trying to gain power? He'd once told Padme he wasn't the Jedi he should be. Why? Because he'd felt constrained, held back by antiquated ideals in a galaxy they no longer fit. Because he'd wanted _more. _Mustafar flashed in his mind. Padme, heavily pregnant, begging him to run away with her, pleading with him in desperation. "_I only_ _want_ _your_ _love,"_ she'd told him fervently, desperately, earnestly. He'd been _so_ kriffing convinced she was going to die, that what he was doing...selling his soul, selling his freedom...was for her. But instead, he'd hurt her, choked her unconscious, endangering both her life and the lives of his unborn children.

And in the process, he'd lost them, had thrown himself deeper into this mess because...Well, if he'd sold his soul to the Dark Side for her, why the kriff would he turn back? Her death would have been for nothing.

But, she didn't die. She and his children were hiding on some backwater world, isolated, protected by two Jedi Masters - not _him. _They were alive, true...but by his own actions, he'd destroyed the very life they should have been living. Together. As a family.

So, why was he still there?

_Because you're a monster, and you don't deserve to go back. There is no life there for you. The only one left is the way forward...stick to your plan. And maybe...just maybe you'll be with them again. _He turned away from the mirror, no longer wishing to see himself, and entered back into his bed chamber where he approached the floor to ceiling viewport, staring out into the star speckled void of space. For once, the sight didn't bring him any peace. For once...the thought of bringing Padme to his side, of ruling the galaxy together as Emperor and Empress...for once, that made him uneasy.

He didn't know how long he was staring out of the viewport before the comm in his pants pocket began to chime. He blinked as though coming out of a daze and pulled the device out. Seeing that it wasn't his military issued one, or even his normal private comm, but the one he'd set up specifically for Sandstorm, made him snap out of his haze of grief and despair. Something must be up. Maybe it was that small band of rebels Padme had introduced him to.

Using the Force, he called the voice modulator from on top of his bedside table to his hand, quickly bringing the device up to his lips as he answered the comm-voice only. He wasn't exactly himself at the moment, but he wasn't about to give away who he was. "Sandstorm." He greeted, and even with the modulator, his voice sounded...dead. As if all the life had been sucked out of him.

"_Thank_ _the_ _Force,"_ Padme's own modulated voice came through clearly. She too hadn't turned on her comm cam. "_I_ _thought...I_ _was_ _concerned_ _that_ _you'd_ _been_ _captured,_ _or_ _worse,_ _killed."_

Vader closed his eyes as he remembered similar words from her after he'd returned from the Outer Rim Sieges...right before she revealed she was pregnant. "No. I'm alive, and uncaptured." He paused, feeling the painful ache of the Force lightning still lingering in his muscles. "Injured. But, I'll live."

Padme let out a sigh of apparent relief. "_Not_ _too_ _injured,_ _I_ _hope?"_

His pride. His dignity. But his body? "I'll be fine. I promise." He paused, glancing over at the screens at his desk, and deciding he'd rather find out from her rather than looking at a screen. "Are you alright? Are...are those people we rescued safe?"

"_I'm_ _fine._ _Completely_ _uninjured,_ _in_ _part_ _thanks_ _to_ _you._ _The_ _Alliance_ _has_ _sent_ _everyone_ _we_ _rescued_ _to_ _safe_ _planets_ _with_ _new_ _identities,_ _far_ _away_ _from_ _the_ _action."_ Vader breathed out a sigh of relief. At least _something_ good came from all this. "_I also_ _wanted_ _to_ _thank_ _you._ _For_ _your_ _help."_

Vader paused. Now would be a good time to win her trust, potentially twist the situation to his own liking but… "Of course. It's...been too long since I've been able to help with a mission like that." He realized once again the truth of Sandstorm's words. It _had _been too long since he'd helped people instead of hurting them. _A mission_ _that_ _didn't_ _end_ _in_ _people_ _being_ _enslaved_ _or murdered,_ he thought bitterly with a grimace.

"_Well,_ _I_ _hope_ _that_ _you'll_ _get_ _more_ _opportunities. The galaxy needs the assistance of one such as you."_

"Yeah, I know, but…" How could he express, as Sandstorm, just how badly he'd messed up? How he had actually almost been the reason for those people's enslavement? "I just...want to do more."

"_Don't_ _we_ _all."_ Padme replied dryly. "_There_ _are_ _plenty_ of _smaller_ _opportunities._ _It_ _may_ _not_ _be_ _rescuing_ _slaves_ _every_ day, _but_ _sometimes_ _I_ _think_ _the_ _smaller_ _things_ _have_ _the_ _longer_ _lasting_ _effect and do the most good for the galaxy."_

Maybe. But he still wanted...no, _needed…._he needed to somehow strike a blow against Sidious personally. Even if he couldn't yet destroy the man himself, he would need to somehow undermine…Wait! Maybe. _Possibly..._

The idea hit him so hard and so fast, his back straightened painfully with a snap of his muscles, and he gasped. "P-Nightblade, I have exactly what we need to strike a hard blow against the Empire."

A shocked silence followed "_You_ _do?"_

"Yeah, I…" he thought up a story off the top of his head. "I managed to at least get some data before I managed to escape. Not about Jedha," He wasn't about to completely commit the worst possible treasonable offence against his master. Not yet at least. "But about something else, and...I need your help."

"_Uh,_ _sure._ _What_ _is_ _it?"_ She sounded wary, but...not entirely mistrusting. Good. Progress...and a step in the right direction.

He leaned forward, bracing his shoulder against the side of the view port, a feral grin spreading over his lips. Just _one_ act of rebellion. That would clear his head, and he could again focus on his plan to get his wife back. Hell, it would probably help in that endeavor. Suddenly, eager anticipation flooded his veins, completely overshadowing his previous despair.

He had an idea...A tactical move that would both strike back at Sidious and win him points of favor with both The Alliance and, most importantly, his wife.

"Have you ever been to Ryloth?"

* * *

Always concerned, always worried.

Not that she could blame him. The Clone Wars had left an indelible mark on him...No, on them all._ Not a good one either, _she thought wryly.

The war had bred caution, a necessary trait to have in these dangerous times. It kept them alive.

Not that she didn't long for the day peace, true peace, returned to the galaxy. She did.

And, it couldn't get here soon enough.

Still, today wasn't that day. Not considering what they knew was coming.

"I told you, I'm safe." Padme, dressed as Nightblade, said to the mini figure of a robbed Obi-Wan staring up at her from her comm unit. "I've already discussed the situation with the local leaders here. They're spreading the evacuation word, and I'm waiting for Sandstorm to show up. It's you I'm more concerned about." Obi-Wan was, after all, evacuating Twi-lek's from the remote regions of the planet with the help of Rex and his men, where the Empire was going to begin the bombardment. She frowned behind her mask, again wondering for the millionth time since Sandstorm had relayed the information, why the kriff the Empire was starting their bombardment where there were few citizens living in scattered tiny villages. It was a move that made no kriffing sense, tactically. Usually, if they wanted to make a statement like this, they preferred to start in the chosen planet's capitol city...where she currently was.

But, according to the information Sandstorm had procured, they were saving the capitol for last. Such an odd move. One so unlike him to make. She couldn't help the scowl that spread across her already grim features- though no one could see it because of her mask. She couldn't pretend to have any understanding of how his twisted mind worked any longer.

Nor could she help the shudder of longing that raced through her hot on the heels of an ache for who he'd once been and never could be again. _I will not think of that right now. We've got a job to do, _she thought, gritting her teeth in determination, ruthlessly shoving her own pain aside and regaining her focus.

At least they could evacuate and save lives today. It wouldn't have been possible at all, though, if not for Sandstorm...She just wished she could somehow save their homes, their planetary infrastructure, too. But, the Rebellion wasn't big enough or strong enough yet to take on an entire planetary bombardment force on its own. Imperial might still ruled most of the galaxy with a durasteel thumb through their weaponry, not to mention their sheer numbers. No. They would have to rely on an evacuation today to save the masses and reduce casualties. Evacuating the remote villages to uninhabited prairie lands and city dwellers into underground tunnels and bunkers left over from the Clone Wars was the most they could do. For now.

Obi-Wan's image shook as a bomb went off somewhere in the vicinity, shaking the ground and resulting in a muted rumble rippling outward from the impact. Padme imagined she could feel it from there, but she knew she couldn't. "I _know,_ _but I don't_ _like_ _the_ _idea_ _of_ _you_ _being_ _alone_ _with_ _a strange_ _Jedi."_ Obi-Wan said. She could tell he was walking now, peering up from under his hood at something above him.

So it had begun. Vicious bastards.

Padme imagined the white hull of the Star Destroyer descending into the lower atmosphere, raining down pulses of laser fire indiscriminately. The Emperor's goal wouldn't be to kill _all_ of the Twi'leks. Just...a lot of them.

And probably enslave the rest. _Especially_ the females.

"We've already discussed this. He has yet to do anything except help us, and…" she began with a roll of her eyes, but Obi-Wan suddenly gasped, cutting her off.

"_Kriff,_ Nightblade, the ship-It's a _Super_ Star Destroyer!" Padme paled at those words, her body going stiff - and she mentally cursed long and loud in Huttese. Super Star Destroyers were new. To their knowledge, the only one in the Imperial fleet was commanded by none other than the very _last_ person she wanted to be anywhere near right now.

Darth kriffing Vader.

"_By_ _the_ _Force,_ I _should_ _be_ _with_ _you,_ _dammit!"_ Obi-Wan growled.

"It's too late." Her voice was wavering, thinking about Vader being so close. Could he sense her down there? Of course he could! That was a stupid question. Obi-Wan couldn't protect her presence from this far away anyhow. What would Vader do when he sensed she was down here, in danger? "Look. Just do your job...I'll do mine. There are...bigger things than what happens between he and I today. Lives are at stake, Obi-Wan. Innocent lives that are depending on us to succeed." _Besides,_ she added to herself weakly, _he_ _hasn't_ _taken_ _me the_ _last_ _few_ _times_ _we've_ _run_ _into_ _each_ _other._ No kriffing way he would do so today.

She'd make sure of it.

Unlike Anakin, who tended to hyper focus on her safety whenever she was in danger, Obi-Wan saw the truth in her words...and relented. "_You'd_ better _make_ _it_ _to_ the rendezvous _point._ _Am_ _I_ _clear?"_

"As crystal. And don't worry, I will." She said, more to convince herself than to convince him. "May the Force be with you."

"_And_ _with_ _you."_

She cut off the comm, stuffing it onto her belt, and pulled out her lightsaber. She gripped it tightly. Despite her assurances to Obi-Wan to the contrary, she was literally shaking. Why did the Force seem hell-bent on bringing them back together?! Hadn't the Force taken him from her in the first place, shattering her heart and her entire world?! Why mock her like this?! Had she known he would be here, she wouldn't have, dammit! Sandstorm didn't say anything about Vader's flagship being there! But then again, Sandstorm probably didn't know...or he wasn't particularly concerned that a Sith Lord was bearing down on the planet in a Super Star Destroyer.

_Shit!_ Just her being there was a risk. She was putting these people's lives at risk by just...being there. But...again, the question begged...Why start with remote villages? It made much more tactical sense to start with the capitol and spread out the carnage from there. Once the capital was decimated, the Twi'leks would be all the easier to find and round up. Vader wasn't known for foolish decisions in battle, being the brilliant tactician he was nearly legendary for…

"Are you ready to get these people out of here?"

The sudden sound of Sandstorm's modulated voice had her gasping as she whirled around, igniting her lightsaber, pointing it at his throat. When she was sure it was just him, she let out a sigh of relief and switched off the purple blade. Sandstorm hadn't even flinched, as if he were expecting her to jump like that.

"Don't sneak up on me like that if you don't want to lose a limb." she warned half-heartedly, her voice mildly breathless.

His head tilted, and she could just barely see those blue eyes filled with amusement. "You could try."

She opened her mouth to retort...but she didn't have time. Especially with Vader there. "We have a problem," she said, and she was already stalking forward, heading in the direction the Twi-leks would be leaving in. Sandstorm followed. "Vader is here."

"So, I noticed." Sandstorm replied coolly, and she wondered if he really was that calm about being so close to a Sith Lord. Obi-Wan certainly wasn't calm… Well, not as much as usual anyway. "He still began where my intel said he would. I don't see why that would change."

"I wouldn't exactly call Vader…_predictable."_ Padme mumbled under her breath. The streets were already nearly empty as they picked their way along the debris blocking their way. Doorways stood open, and possessions hastily shoved out were still lying scattered about in the street, abandoned, all the occupants having fled swiftly in a panic.

Normally, Ryloth would be swarming with Stormtroopers, but today there were none. Cleared out before the bombardment could begin. How nice of the Empire to look out for their own at least. Normally, from what they'd heard from their spies and through underground channels of intel, even killing their own soldiers didn't phase either Sidious or Vader. The immoral malevolent cretins."He's likely going to change his plans soon enough anyway."

"Oh? And, why would that be?" Sandstorm asked. She glanced at him, frowning, but under the hood and behind the mask, she couldn't discern anything. Yet...was that a trace of amusement she detected?

A pregnant pause ensued before...

"Let's just say he and I have a long history of _**not**_ getting along. Let's leave it at that, shall we," She said, though inwardly she added, _Because I'm technically still his __**wife**__, legally, and he sees me as his possession and will stop at nothing to bring me and our children back to him. Plus, he'll be pissed as hell that I'm willingly putting myself in a warzone instead of staying at home caring for Luke and Leia - and keeping my nose out of Imperial business. _She wasn't about to tell him any of that, though. The less he knew about her, the better. There was the potential for too many questions, and given that Sandstorm was a Jedi, he probably would view her as a potential threat to the mission and to himself. "Let's just get these people out of here as soon as possible."

Easier said than done.

When they caught up with the Twi'leks, she let out a shaky breath, as she took in the sheer number of them. It was a large city, set into a lone mountain surrounded by a wide, deep canyon on all sides. Certainly not as large as Coruscant or even Theed, but...there were people of all ages, trying to carry as much treasured possessions out of the city as possible. Children were running around, babies were crying, adults looked frantic…

"It could be worse." Sandstorm said with a shrug, as they pushed their way through, "Many Twi'leks have left Ryloth and have scattered across the galaxy."

"Yes, because the Empire has ravaged their homeworld." Padme pointed out bitterly through gritted teeth. "Though, I suppose they never really recovered after the Clone Wars."

Sandstorm didn't reply for a long time. By the time he did, they were at the massive gate to the city-the only way out, including a long, computer generated bridge that could be turned off with the flick of a switch from the control tower above them. Precarious, to be sure, given the laser cannons firing at will at the planet's surface - and drawing ever nearer. But, the only choice they had to get to safety.

"They were one of the hardest hit planets, too." Sandstorm finally murmured, his voice sounding distant, as though he were remembering. Padme frowned-the last she'd heard, the Jedi who had helped free this planet had been Anakin, Obi-Wan and Master Windu. But...she supposed other Jedi would have heard about it. Perhaps even seen holos of it. But, Sandstorm didn't give more details, and instead began taking a few steps before the glowing bridge, where a familiar Twi-lek was issuing commands to those under his command to organize the citizens. "Syndulla." Sandstorm greeted.

The male Twi'lek whirled, fastening a penetrating gaze on the two of them. Padme had spoken to him when she'd landed-he wasn't an easy man to get along with, but he had his reasons. Valid ones. "And you _are?"_ Syndulla demanded, distrust in his gaze. Padme didn't blame him. The man loved his people, and to see them continually suffer so…

Again, Padme felt a rush of fury, sparing a moment to glance in the general direction that Obi-Wan was-and therefore, Vader. It was all his fault, she silently seethed. Partly, at any rate, she knew, but...she wanted, needed to blame someone. At the moment, her arch nemesis seemed the best option. If she could have wrenched that blasted mask off, she would have spit in his face.

"I am Sandstorm. I'm the one who discovered this plot against your planet by the Empire." Sandstorm replied smoothly, evidently not offended by the man's tone.

It seemed to cause Syndulla to relax, if only a little bit. "Then I suppose thanks are in order." He turned and pointed towards the hills beyond the chasm. "There are caverns there that will serve to protect our people in those hills. The trouble is getting everyone safely across." He motioned toward the bridge.

"We're here to help." Padme said, stepping forward. "How can we be of service?"

Syndulla nodded, and despite everything, she saw gratitude flash in his eyes. "My men will help move those who need assistance. I need you to to stay along the bridge to guide everyone and make sure there are no stragglers...and if we get attacked…"

"There should be no danger of that." Sandstorm interrupted, and at the glare he received from the other man, fell silent. Wisely.

"I do not trust the Empire. If we are attacked, I will need both of your help defending the citizens." Syndulla finished. Already, his men were leading people and their belongings across the bridge.

"We'll do what we can." Padme replied firmly, straightening, her hand going to her lightsaber at her side. She noticed Sandstorm's hand was on his leather-wrapped hilt as well.

They moved out across the bridge, both of them automatically taking opposite sides without a word. It was as though they instinctively knew what either of them would do, and moved automatically to where each of them needed to be. Padme glanced down at her feet, gulping as she realized that the bridge was see through, practically invisible. It was strange to be standing on a bridge that was nothing more than a solid holo screen that could be turned off at any time. No, kriffing freaky was what it was. She suppressed a groan. She wasn't normally afraid of heights, and there wasn't any reason to turn off the bridge at the moment, but...she still shuddered. _Better_ _to_ _focus_ _on_ _helping_ _these_ _people,_ she thought, turning her full attention to calling out orders, helping those along who were struggling get caught up.

On the other side of the bridge, Sandstorm was doing the same, his modulated voice carrying strong and clear above the crowd.

As they continued on, it became obvious that Sandstorm was no stranger to taking command. When he spoke, he spoke with an undercurrent of authority, and people listened. Then again, people listened to her as well, but her voice was more from a politician's perspective. Being Nightblade had never changed her into a magnetic war general...just a magnetic politician who could murder people at will. Sandstorm, on the other hand, had an almost general vibe happening. It wasn't surprising, given that being a Jedi during the Clone Wars, he had likely been given a troop of Clone Troopers to command. This likely wasn't anything different than what he'd done back in the day-maybe it was easier.

Except for the children. They were the hardest to guide. They often got distracted, having a tendency to leave their parents' sides. They couldn't fully grasp the danger they were in, and children were more likely to want to play than to listen to orders. It was these younglings she mainly focused on, for she knew just how difficult it was to keep children in line. Frankly, none of these little ones were a match for her own twins, likely because none of these children were Force Sensitive. Probably. And, if they were, they weren't as strong in the Force as her Luke and Leia were. After dealing with Luke and Leia's antics, she felt ready to take on a horde of Twi'lek children. And so she did.

Even if it did cause a pang of longing to be back home to hit her.

They spent hours out under the hot sun-or at least, it felt like hours. But soon enough, the last group began their trek across the bridge. Padme turned a glance up to the sky. She could just see the Super Star Destroyer now, but it was still so far away. Plenty of time to get these people across the bridge if they hurried...though why Vader hadn't sped up to find her yet...she wasn't sure. She didn't think she wanted to know. If she could get through this without spending any time with the blasted man, it would be a blessing…

But, as she stared up at the sky once again, wondering what was going through the man's twisted mind, something else appeared suddenly in the sky, dropping out of Hyperspace. Something totally unexpected. Something that made her blood run cold as ice. "Sandstorm!" She shouted, and once she had his attention, she pointed up to the sky.

"Another Star Destroyer!"As she yelled and pointed up, _three_ more appeared out of hyperspace, high above them, descending towards the planet to get in range to begin firing.

On the capital city.

"No," Sandstorm breathed, and though she couldn't see his eyes from where she stood, she imagined them widened in disbelief. "No... that's not...Those aren't...What the _hell_ are they doing _here?!"_

"Syndulla was right." Padme growled bitterly, thinking again of Vader. What did he gain by suddenly bringing in more reinforcements? And, why three star ships to destroy one city? "Don't trust the Empire." _Especially_ _Vader,_ she added furiously in her head. She _should_ have killed him, dammit! She'd had her chance and…_Kriff!_ Sandstorm was still standing there, staring up, frozen in shock, but Padme was already moving, waving her arms frantically towards the approaching star destroyers. "Run!" she shouted to the last of the stragglers, "Move, fast, or…!"

The first blast that hit the city behind them caused stone rubble to explode and fly, big and little chunks of rocks pelting down towards them. The bridge shuddered, and the Twi'lek's on the bridge skidded to a halt and screamed. "RUN!" She was practically bellowing, frantically running towards them, running towards the city now under siege by the Star Destroyers above them. Rocks and rubble were now raining down in a hazy cloud of suffocating air, but her mask would filter that. She was more concerned about falling debris hurting one of the Twi'leks…

"NIGHTBLADE!" Sandstorm roared behind her, "THERE'S NO TIME!"

She ignored him, running towards a mother struggling to grab her frantic small child while she held a squalling baby in the other arm. She made it as another large blast shook the city, not far from the gate...and the control tower that kept the gate up, and she scooped the struggling child in her arms. She glanced around frantically at the other Twi'lek's in the group. Elderly, all of them. The slowest of those living in the city. She wanted to do something but...she was only _one_ person…and she didn't have the Force.

"Hurry!" She implored them desperately, but they were already hurrying as fast as they could hobble towards the other side of the bridge. She turned, holding the hysterically crying child close to her body, keeping pace with the now running mother. Sandstorm was there, already running towards them, but he skidded to a stop in the middle of the bridge when he saw that they were heading towards him. "GO!" Nightblade shouted, imploring him with all of her desire to turn and run. "HELP SYNDULLA!"

But, typically, Sandstorm ignored her, and she gritted her teeth. Stubborn Jedi. It was like the whole damn Order had it in kriffing spades. Y'know, he wasn't that much different than her Anakin-ignoring her plea to look to the bigger picture, to duty, to help save the last few people. Instead, he positioned himself in the center of the bridge, holding out his hands towards them, his ice blue eyes intense and focused on them.

"When I say go," Sandstorm yelled, as more fire rocketed down behind them. Padme was certain she saw the bridge flicker, and her heart leapt into her throat. It was a _very_ long way down. "Jump!"

Padme didn't even want to know what he had planned. It was probably some damn fool plan that was closer to suicide than success, but she nodded affirmatively and kept running towards him. "Do as he says!" She yelled out to the others around her. In her arms, the little child began to cry anew, clinging to her in sheer terror.

A few more steps, that felt like they lasted an eternity, before finally Sandstorm nodded and boomed out, "GO!"

"JUMP!" Padme shouted right behind him, as she leapt as high as she could...and found herself and all the others around her lifting impossibly high, high, higher, flying towards the other side…_The_ _Force,_ Padme realized with a jolt, as she risked a glance back at Sandstorm. Sure enough, his hands were out, and he was guiding them towards the other side...and dropped them all at the very edge of the bridge. Padme lost her footing as she landed, as did many of the others, obviously not being used to being Force-handled like that, but she was back on her feet, setting the little one on solid ground. Syndulla was there a moment later, helping the others around her to their feet and onto solid ground.

Padme turned, her eyes searching for Sandstorm, and found him running full tilt at them with Force-induced speed. "MOVE!" he shouted. On instinct, Padme stepped onto the solid ground, the last one to do so...though she didn't move away from the bridge. Not until Sandstorm was safe, she decided, watching him run towards her, her heart hammering hard in her chest. He had to make it, he had to…

But, at that very moment, a blast hit the control tower, and it shattered into smithereens, sending a barrage of debris hurtling toward them. "SANDSTORM, THE TOWER!" She screamed as the bridge began to flicker. He was almost there..._almost_…

She reached out a hand toward him, pleading, imploring. She couldn't watch another Jedi die. There were already too many gone, and he'd only just joined the Alliance and…

With a jolt, an unexpected rush of fervent exuberance, she realized...She _needed_ him.

A realization that was totally unexpected.

The bridge disappeared, just as Sandstorm used the Force to make _one_ last desperate jump for safety. For one, horrible moment, he was suspended in mid-air, and she thought he might make it...but just before he reached the other side, he began to fall…

_No!_

With a mighty yell, she reached further out, stretching her body as far as she could reach, and their hands grasped…

She was almost yanked down with him. But, instead of tumbling forward, she collapsed to her knees, yelling out in pain as the full force of his weight hit her shoulder, almost pulling it out of its socket, definitely tearing some tendons and possibly muscles, but...she held on, gritting her teeth, tears falling from the corners of her eyes. _Ow, that's gonna need a bacta tank, _she thought, but _s_he would NOT let go! Sandstorm would _not_ die.

Not today.

Under his superior weight, she slid forward towards the gap a few inches...until Syndulla was there, reaching over the side, grabbing Sandstorm's other gloved hand and between the two of them they pulled Sandstorm up and over onto the safe side. Sandstorm was drawing in deep gulps of air, shaking, on hands and knees. Padme settled down next to him, her arm throbbing painfully, gasping for breath as well.

"That...could have...gotten you _killed."_ Sandstorm said, and she thought he might have been upset with her...but he was too winded to sound that angry.

It took her a few tries to get the words out, but she finally managed it. "What...are friends for…?" She smiled at him...and realized he couldn't see it behind her mask. Still, Sandstorm's blue eyes softened momentarily...before hardening again into ice, as he turned back to the city that was still being bombarded.

Padme too, looked towards the city...most of it had already collapsed. The rest was on fire. Above them, two of the other Star Destroyers had begun to fan out, likely going to more cities on the other side of the planet where there was an expected large population. She sincerely hoped that Obi-Wan, Rex and their team had gotten everyone out safely….but there likely wouldn't be enough time to save them all. Many lives would be lost this day.

What a tragic loss for the Rebellion...No, for the _galaxy._

Sandstorm suddenly stood, his eyes fixated on the Star Destroyers above them. "Why do you think they came so late?" Padme pondered, frowning up at the Star Destroyers. "It's not like Vader to bring in reinforcements when none are needed."

Sandstorm didn't reply. He just stared up. She noticed, at his sides, his hands were clenched tightly. Finally, when she thought he would never respond, he suddenly said, "Help Syndulla. I'll...I've got something I need to take care of."

Padme blinked, surprised. "Wait...you're leaving?"

"Yes." Sandstorm said, and in his voice was a note of finality. He was already walking away. "I...I need to figure out what's going on." She thought that that would have been obvious...even if she too had many questions about the motive behind it. It seemed even now, she still couldn't fully predict Vader's mindset. Especially now, now that he was no longer...she pushed the thought from her mind.

"But...but what if…?" She began, but….now that the people were on the safe side, many had already begun filing into the safety of the caverns. There was no real reason for Sandstorm to stay. She could handle it on her own from here. But...still. Some part of her wanted him to stay with her...if only to know he was safe. Perhaps she'd even be able to introduce him to Obi-Wan this time…

"There's nothing more that can be done. Wait planetside until the bombardment has ceased and the Star Destroyers are away." He paused, turning back to look at her. For a brief moment, under the dim lighting, she thought she saw a flash of gold in those blue eyes...but when she peered closer, it was gone. Those eyes still a brilliant blue. _I must have imagined it, _she thought. Still, an unsettled feeling began to rise within her. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'll make contact with you. Very soon. I swear." He cocked his head, looking at her intently. "And, when I do…_everything_ will change."

She had no idea what the kriff that was supposed to mean. But, before she could ask, he had turned and was already sprinting away with Force-induced speed, his body a blur of movement, leaving her to stare after him, astounded.

"What the _hell_ are you up to, Sandstorm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! An update! The next few chapters are big ones so...get ready!  
The Battle of Hoth from Empire Strikes back is the song for this chapter.  
Leave some love!   
Love,  
LadyVader23


	19. Vader's Message

Honestly, she wished he'd just let it go already.

Glancing sideways, she knew that wouldn't happen, though. It wasn't in his nature.

As soon as he opened his mouth, she knew she was right. Figures.

"I don't think I trust this Sandstorm," Obi-Wan said, as Padme began prepping the ship to drop out of hyperspace. Padme rolled her eyes. Ever since she'd met back up with Obi-Wan at the rendezvous point and departed from a now ruined Ryloth, he kept hinting at this very thing. "There are so few Jedi left. You'd think he'd want to meet me."

"Like I said, every time he's had a valid excuse not to." Well. Maybe _this_ time was pushing it. He could have stayed with her until the people were all completely safe. He could have followed her to the rendezvous location to meet Obi-Wan and Rex and the rest of their team. But, the look in his eyes when he'd left her...it _still_ gave her chills just thinking about it. Something was up.

Something big.

She just hoped it was something good. "I'm sure you'll get to meet him soon, Obi-Wan, and then you two can go off on a Jedi play date." She shot her friend a coy smirk.

Unamused, he just grumbled, "_Very funny,"_ under his breath, causing her grin to grow wider.

Ribbing Obi-Wan was _far_ too easy and so much fun! _No_ _wonder_ _Anakin_ _and_ _Ahsoka_ _had_ _always_ _persisted_ _in_ _pushing_ _his buttons_, she couldn't help thinking wryly. Force knew they all needed some levity in these dark times...and Obi-Wan took the bait, hook, line, and sinker...Like always.

With a pull of a lever, the ship shuddered out of hyperspace, and Gandle Ott filled the view port of her ship. Home. Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed lately that she was always out on missions, ever since Sola and her family had come to live with them, actually. The last time she'd gone home, she'd sworn Luke and Leia had grown a few inches. They also seemed to be learning more new words every day, which with their older cousins, Ryoo and Pooja to play with now, wasn't that surprising. Soon enough, she'd come home to find they were teenagers, or worse, adults. If she wasn't careful, she could very well miss out on their entire childhood, dammit. It wasn't something she wanted, of course, even with her duty to eradicating the Empire, but...after all, someone had to do it. She just hoped her children would understand her sacrifice for their sake and the galaxy's sake. Someday.

"It's not that I want a play date." Obi-Wan said, exasperated. "I just want to give us any advantage we can get at bringing down Vader and the Emperor."

"And he is giving us an advantage, Obi-Wan. All those people on Ryloth…most of them would be dead, if it weren't for him." She kept reminding him of this, but even now, Obi-Wan didn't appear to be convinced. He stroked his auburn beard thoughtfully as he peered silently down at the planet below them. "Look, next time I'll attempt to convince him to…" she began, but a flashing light on the control panel interrupted her, blinking bright red.

Padme's heart began to sink into her stomach at the sight of it. Priority transmission on her encrypted channel. Mon Mothma. It had to be.

So much for seeing her children again soon.

_Kriff!_

"Are you going to answer that, or shall I?" Obi-Wan asked dryly, when she made no move to answer. She scowled, and before he could tease her further, she reached out and flipped the switch.

Sure enough, Mon Mothma's image appeared, a troubled frown marring her normally serene features. "Nightblade." Mon greeted. Even on a secure channel, she wouldn't risk using Padme's real name. "Have you returned home yet?"

Having changed out of the garb of Nightblade, Padme had to force herself to keep the irritation off of her face. She adored Mon, had been close friends with her in the senate and now as her assassin, but she loved her children more. She was starting to get irritable at being kept from her family for too long. "We're orbiting the planet now," Obi-Wan replied for her when it became apparent that she was still struggling not to sound like an angry gundark. "Is there something wrong?"

For a brief moment, Padme irrationally thought that perhaps something had happened with the children. But, then, if that had happened, Obi-Wan would have sensed it the moment they dropped out of hyperspace. Besides, Yoda or her mother or Sola wouldn't contact the Rebellion. Too risky. Still, Mon hesitated in response to Obi-Wan's question, indicating that while her children were still safe and sound on the planet below, something _else_ was urgent enough to require contact so soon after a mission.

Perhaps this was the 'something big' she was anticipating.

"I received Rex's report on Ryloth." She began, as though hunting for the right words. Padme's frown deepened, irritation forgotten. It wasn't like Mon to be at a loss for words. "Vader was there?" it was phrased as a question. A desire for confirmation. But, why? Rex could be trusted. It wasn't like Vader hadn't bombarded a planet before.

"Yes." Padme replied curtly. "He didn't come to meet me though." Something that still troubled her, truthfully.

A pregnant pause. "And...did anything seem…_off_ about his movements?" Clearly, Mon was being careful not to offend Padme, for obvious reasons. Still...the fact that Mon had picked up on the same thing Padme had…

"As a matter of fact, there was something strange, yes." She replied carefully. "Starting off bombing rural areas instead of the capital doesn't make any logical sense. I thought maybe he was ordered by the Emperor to do that, but...that doesn't make any sense either, knowing him." She scowled as she always did, hating that she'd been so damn blind to the evil snake her 'old friend' Palpatine had turned out to be. "But, then having reinforcements show up at the last moment...that also makes no logical sense either. Not to mention...he should have sensed me on planet. Yet...he didn't try and do anything to apprehend me, which is highly unusual, all things considered." She didn't have to mention why. Mon was well aware, as was Bail.

Mon digested this information with a silent nod, her eyebrows furrowing, her lips pursed. It wasn't often Padme saw such an expression from her dear friend, even now in these dire times. "I'm afraid the mystery continues with a rather…_confusing_ revelation, Nightblade." She finally said, and it looked like she was reaching over to her console for something.

Confusing? How about cryptic?

Padme and Obi-Wan glanced at one another in obvious bewilderment. This _couldn't_ be good. If Vader was behaving strangely...perhaps he was about to become an even greater threat than they all had anticipated. "I'm almost afraid to ask." Obi-Wan murmured, stroking his beard again, his eyes narrowed on Mon's expression.

"I...it might actually be a good development," Mon said slowly, though she didn't sound entirely convinced. She was still fiddling with something off screen. "We received a transmission from the Rebel cell your newfound Jedi friend, Sandstorm, is a part of. High priority, extremely encrypted. It was delivered with a simple message: For my eyes only...or Nightblade's."

Padme frowned. Sandstorm? But...no, he had her comm. Why bother going through an official channel like this? He hadn't done so before. Then again, other than knowing she needed him, she didn't know that much else about him. Perhaps he thought it was better to contact her through a more formal method this time? "Since they didn't know your contact information, they sent it on to me." Another pregnant pause as Mon seemed to struggle with the right words to say again. "It's rather…Well. See for yourself."

Mon must have flipped a switch on her console, because she cut out...and was immediately replaced by the imposing black masked figure of Darth Vader himself. Damn!

It was such a shock, that for a millisecond Padme thought he'd somehow spliced into their direct feed. Her hand automatically went to her lightsaber...and paused as Vader began to speak. "_Greetings_, _Senator_ _Mothma_ _and_ _Nightblade_. _I_ _trust_ _that_ _both_ _of you_ _have_ _the_ _good_ _sense_ _to_ _keep_ _this_ _message_ _out_ _of_ _the_ _hands_ _of lesser_ _rebels_ _who_ _would_ _blab_ _about_ _the_ _contents_ _with_ _little_ _intimidation_."

Padme's hand left her blade. A recording. This was a recording. She shook her head in annoyance. Even in the recording, the man's arrogance was obvious. She might have seethed over it, if she wasn't trying to figure out how in the hell he'd managed to get this message through to them-or better yet, _why_.

Especially without Sidious finding it and tracking it.

Vader continued, his voice rumbling through the vocorecorder in his mask, sounding nothing like the man who was inside the infernal suit. "_I come_ _to you_ _with_ _a truce_, _not_ _as Darth_ _Vader_, _the_ _second_ _in_ _command_ _to_ _the_ _Empire_, _the_ _apprentice_ _of a_ _Sith_ _Lord_, _but as_…" a pause, and a tilt of his helmeted head, indicating to Padme that he was considering his words. The gesture was so familiar that her throat tightened. "_As_ _simply_ _Vader_. _A man_ _with_ _considerable_ _resources_ _to_ _bring_ _down_ _the_ _Emperor...and_ _transfer_ _power_ _back_ _to the_ _Senate_ _to do with_ _as they_ _please_."

"WHAT?!" Padme gasped in utter shock, and Obi-Wan reached over and placed a calming hand on her shoulder, though when she looked over to him to gauge his reaction, Obi-Wan was just as grim...and perhaps even just as startled by this turn of events as she was.

Vader continued. "_I...have_ _my_ _reasons_ _for_ _this_ _offer_, _reasons_ _I will_ _not_ _bother_ _to explain_ _at_ _this_ _time_."

_No_, _tell_ _me_, _you_ _stupid_ _Nerf_ _Herder!_ Padme inwardly screamed at the recording, her mind reeling with what Vader was saying. But, he just continued speaking, knocking her even further for a loop.

"_What_ _you_ _need_ _to know_ _is_ _this-in_ _seventy-_ _two_ _standard_ _hours_, _I_ _will_ _assassinate_ _the_ _Emperor_. _The_ _details_ _of_ _how_ _and_ _where_ _are_ _not_ _important_, _but_ _at the_ _time_ _I_ _expect_ _his_ _death_, _a pre-recorded_ _message_ _will_ _broadcast_ _across_ _all_ _Imperial_ _channels across the galaxy,_ _announcing_ _the_ _Emperor's_ _death_, _my_ _succession_, _and_ _my immediate_ _resignation,_ _and_ _the_ _official_ _shift_ _of power_ _back_ _to the_ _Senate_. _All_ _crimes_ _and_ _bounties_ _against_ _you_ _or_ _your_ _rebellion_ _will_ _be lifted_. _I_ _would_ _suggest_ _you_ _have_ _a_ _representative_ in _the_ _Senate_ _ready_ _to act_ _in_ _your_ _stead_ _until_ _it_ _is_ _safe_ _for_ _you_ _to_ _return_ to _Coruscant_." Meaning, obviously, Vader knew there were senators loyal to the Rebellion still serving in the Senate. A sobering, but not surprising thought...or at least, not as shocking as the _rest_ of what he was saying was.

To say her mind was blown, would be a vast understatement. But, as she continued to stare at the recording, she realized Vader's bombshells weren't _quite_ done yet.

"_After_ _that_, _I will_ _return_ _to_ _my_ _ship_, _the_ _Executor_ _and_ _will retreat_. _I will_ _not_ _tell_ _you_ _where_, _or_ _when_, _or_ _why_. _What_ _matters_ _is that_ _I wish_ _to_ _be left alone_, _as do_ _the_ _majority_ _of_ _my_ _crew_. _I am_ _sure_, _of course_, _that_ _you_ _doubt_ _the validity_ _of my_ _claims_. _You_ _would_ _be unwise_ _to do so_. _As_ _a_ _gesture_ _of my_ _good_ _faith_, _I have_ _included_ _with_ _this_ _transmission_ _the_ _location_ _of_ _the_ _Emperor's_ _secret_ _weapon_. _It is_ _known_ _as the_ _Death_ _Star_. _It's_ _capabilities_ _are_ _unlike_ _anything_ _this_ _galaxy_ _has_ _ever_ _seen_. _I have_ _provided_ _the_ _extensive_ _engineering plans_ _for_ _this_ _monstrosity_, _along_ _with_ _its_ _current_ _location-I_ _am_ _sure_ _that_ _you_ _will_ _deduce_ _its_ _immense_ _threat to the galaxy_ _upon_ _further_ _inspection_ _of the_ _plans_.

By the Force! Surely, this couldn't be happening! Why offer this? It wasn't like him to offer something for nothing. Surely, apart from being left alone, he'd want something in exchange.

Padme grimaced when Vader continued speaking. And, she wasn't surprised at what he had to say this time.

"_The_ _only_ _thing I_ _request_ _in return_ _is_ _this_..." Another pause, and another tilt of that helmeted head. "_I_..._I wish_ _to meet_ _with_ _Nightblade_ _one_ _last_ _time_. _There_ _is much_ _I_ _would_ _say to her that is best said in private_." An irritated sigh. "_I will_ _release_ _her_ _whenever_ _she_ _wishes_. _She_ _may_ _even_ _bring…Kenobi_ _if she_ _so_ _wishes_ _for_ _protection, though she need fear nothing from me_." The distaste was obvious in his voice. He'd practically strangled on Obi-Wan's name. "_I have_ _included_ _the_ _coordinates_ _where_ _my_ _ship_ _will_ _be_ _in_ _seventy-two_ _hours_. _Admiral_ _Piett_, _my second in command, will_ _be_ _standing_ _by_ _to receive_ _you_, _if I_ _am_ _not_ _yet_ _back_ _by_ _the_ _time_ _you_ _arrive_. _I can_ _assure_ _you_, _he_ _will_ _treat_ _you_ _as very_ _important_ _guests_ _on_ _my_ _ship_. _No_ _harm_ _will_ _come_ _to you in_ _his_ _or my care_."

He straightened just a bit and then finished. "_I_ _will_ _leave_ _you_ _two_ _to debate the validity_ _of this_ _message_. _With_ _or_ _without_ _your_ _help_, _the_ _Emperor_ _will_ _be_ _no_ _more_ _in_ _seventy-two_ _hours_. _You_ _have_ _that_ _long_ _to_ _decide_ _what_ _to_ _do_ _with_ _my_ _offer_ _and_ _the_ _information_ _I_ _have_ _presented_ _you_ _with_. _Take_ _care_ _to_ _come_ _to the_ _right_ _decision_." With that ominous warning, the transmission cut off and Mon Mothma appeared again, looking grimmer than ever.

Both Padme and Obi-Wan simply stared.

"It's got to be a plot to overthrow his master," Obi-Wan finally said, though he didn't exactly sound sure. It sounded more like a desperate plea for some sense of normalcy. Sith overthrew their masters and took on new apprentices. Everyone knew this.

"It doesn't make sense to drag us into it though." Mon calmly replied. "It's possible he could decide to lure us in with this and wipe us out when he has us where he wants us...but that's not Vader's style."

"You're right," Obi-Wan agreed, his expression becoming more and more sullen. "Vader is much too brash for that. But...still possible. We can't fully rule that out." A pause. "What of this Death Star?"

Mon's expression darkened. "We've already gone over the plans Vader sent us. It's...a planet killer. Not in the traditional sense, like wiping out resources. When complete, in one shot it would completely blow a planet into stardust."

_Holy_ _Force_…

Padme suddenly couldn't breathe. Mon was continuing, her voice sounding like it was under water due to the ringing in Padme's ears. She kept running over everything that had happened between her and Vader recently. Her family's sudden return...him letting her go, not once, but _twice_…the recording going through Sandstorm's Rebel Cell…

She went numb.

"...spies are already sent. Initial reports confirm Vader's words to be true...it's highly guarded, but the station is still in early development. We could destroy it…"

"Where are the coordinates for his ship." Padme's voice was deadly quiet. Mon and Obi-Wan stopped and stared at her, looking at her like she'd gone crazy.

"You _can't_ be seriously thinking of going!" Obi-Wan stated, disbelief and horror written all over his expression. "It could be a trap."

She could have told him to search his feelings. Even without the Force, she was certain it wasn't. Something…_instinctual_ told her this. Something that she thought had died alongside her husband two years before. She doubted Obi-Wan would appreciate it though, so she went for logic. "It was his only request in response. Besides...he knows where we are. If he wanted, he could come here himself and do whatever he pleased. But...he asked us to come to him instead." She turned to the Jedi beside her, glaring with determination. "Besides. If it is a trap, Yoda will get Luke and Leia to safety. And my family. Our hope….our hope for the galaxy will continue on." She didn't even want to think of that possibility...but she somehow knew it wouldn't happen.

And now she knew why…though she didn't fully understand it, and it made her body both recoil in disgust...and her heart soar with something she hadn't felt in far too long.

A tiny, microscopic shred of…_hope_.

That was all she needed.

"I thought you might say that." Mon sighed. "I've transmitted the codes to you, but...please. Come back safely. I'm asking not as your commander, but as your friend."

Padme nodded. Already she was pulling the coordinates up and plugging them into the navcomputer terminal. She didn't care if she got there early. She needed to go. She needed to see him. She needed to find out _why_. She didn't notice Obi-Wan cut the call with Mon Mothma. She barely heard Obi-Wan grumble that he thought this was a bad idea. She didn't care about any of that as she turned the ship around and jumped back into hyperspace.

She needed to find out, from his own lips, one thing:

_Why_ had he become Sandstorm?

* * *

He was taking an awful chance, a risk that could be catastrophic if not carried out to the most exact detail. He'd planned diligently, thought of everything. At least, he thought he had.

This had better work.

Thirty minutes. He had exactly thirty minutes to reach the temporary throne room on the Emperor's flagship and thus, thirty minutes to run his blade through the putrid despot's chest. At the end of that thirty minutes, his prerecorded holovid message to the entire Empire would automatically broadcast on all known channels. Boba Fett had been tasked with splicing into the Imperial Communications Center on Coruscant to embed the message and set it up to go. He'd received confirmation from Fett that it was done just ten minutes prior.

Now, as he finished landing his personal Lambda-class T-4a shuttle in the hangar bay of the Emperor's flagship, he was already planning five steps ahead, even as he lowered the ramp and emerged, black cape billowing around him, to find that squads of Stormtroopers had lined up at attention on either side of the walkway to greet him. Ignoring the lot of them, Vader strode forward with firm purposeful steps, belying the swirling maelstrom that were the thoughts within his mind.

Part I: Get to the Emperor. Stab him. Get back on his private shuttle with his life and limbs intact.

Part II: Return to the _Executor._ Speak with his wife, hopefully privately.

Part III: Go into exile with his ship and his crew. Possibly in the Unknown Regions. That part he was still working out.

He wasn't exactly happy about the last part of this course of action. But, it was the only viable solution he could think of. After everything he'd done across the galaxy in blind service to Sidious' wretched villainy, even killing the Emperor himself wouldn't erase his crimes. Probably. The rebels were too forgiving for their own good, of course, but he was a harsher judge than they tended to be. All that mattered now was that he attempt to give his wife and children back the life they deserved on Naboo, not hiding terror stricken on some backwater hovel of a planet at the far edge of known space. Their safety, security, and happiness were paramount to him.

Even if it meant he wasn't - _couldn't_ \- be with them ever again.

A nervous captain stood at the bottom of the ramp, giving a brisk bow of respect as Vader stomped down the ramp. As if Vader would start murdering men on his master's ship. Not that he hadn't done so before, but each time he had, he'd earned the ire of his master, especially when it interfered with his master's plans.

He ignored the twinge of regret as he briskly walked past the man, not even deigning to acknowledge him. He had to focus. It would take twenty minutes to get to where he was to meet the Emperor. He couldn't afford to waste time on pleasantries with lowly soldiers.

The captain rushed to keep up. "My Lord," He attempted to greet him, already out of breath. Vader rolled his eyes behind his mask. The Emperor's personal ship was so rarely used, its crew rarely got off Coruscant, making them rather lazy. If it weren't for the Red Guard, the Emperor might have had more assassination attempts on his ship. "The Emperor welcomes you. He bids you to head to your quarters on board where he will summon…"

"I will hear my instructions from the Emperor himself, Captain," Vader cut him off, not bothering to slow down. If he timed it just right, he might get to the Emperor's mobile throne room in seventeen minutes rather than twenty. Thank the Force the Emperor's super star destroyer hadn't been commissioned for him yet, or it would have taken him longer. "You are dismissed, Captain. I know my way from here."

The captain hesitated, but wisely slowed to a stop. Vader could feel his eyes on his back as he entered the turbolift and entered his clearance code for the floor containing the Emperor's suite.

As soon as the turbolift's doors swished shut, Vader again checked his mental shields to make sure they were still intact. As he knew, they were as thick as durasteel. They had been ever since he'd come up with this insane plan. Even so, he knew there was still a small chance the Emperor would sense a disturbance in the Force. His master was too wily, too prone to seeing the future to completely miss his apprentice's deception. But, perhaps he could take Sidious by surprise.

Then again, the senior Sith Lord left Coruscant so rarely, it was a miracle he'd contacted Vader to demand he meet up with him over the Hosnian System. It would be easier to kill him away from Coruscant. At least here, Vader had a chance to kill him and escape with his life.

The chances of that happening on Coruscant were next to nil.

The turbolift stopped, the doors swishing open to reveal a hallway flanked with Red Guards leading up to double doors that contained the Emperor's throne room.

Red Guards. Those would be Vader's greatest adversaries getting out. Even though none of them were Force sensitive, they were deadly with their pikes, trained to counter would-be Force-sensitive assassins. Vader had never really paid them much heed before now. But then, he'd never considered murdering the Emperor before either, so he'd had no need to fear them. Even now, he wasn't afraid of them, but he was apprehensive about the coming fight. He tried not to imagine the guard's eyes following him from behind their red helmets as he passed by.

He reached the doors, and with a wave of his wrist, they swished open to reveal the darkened throne room. Up on the dais, the Emperor's throne was turned away, turned towards the viewport and the planet Hosnian Prime below. "Lord Vader," Sidious greeted in that horribly fake pleasant voice of his. "I'm surprised I don't see the _Executor_ in orbit nearby, my friend. You came alone?"

"Yes, my Master." Ten minutes. He had ten minutes. He continued his measured pace towards the throne as the doors swished closed behind him.

Something suddenly prickled in the Force. A warning. He paused mid step, stretching out with his senses, looking for anything amiss. To his knowledge, there was nothing. There was no one else in the room. They were alone. Perhaps it was a warning for the fight that would surely break out the moment the Red Guards outside discovered that he'd murdered their Emperor.

The Emperor's throne turned on its axis until the hooded, shriveled figure of his master was before him. He tried to suppress a shudder of disgust. How in the kriff had he been fooled by this thing? How in the hell could he have allowed himself to be sucked into servitude to such a reprobate bug of a man? A man who had planned, plotted, and ultimately ruined the lives of billions, if not trillions, of beings across the entire galaxy for the sake of his own personal quest for ultimate power and self glory. Vader had to squelch a rising tide of nausea as he stared at the hideously revolting bastard son of a dug lounging on the dais before him. In his own mind, Vader fluently cursed him in Huttese.

"You always did like flying yourself," Sidious mused as Vader continued his approach. Those yellow eyes narrowed slightly when Vader didn't stop to bow before him. "Are you quite alright, my old friend?"

Friend? What a joke. A bad one. When had Vader ever been Sidious' friend? Oh, Sidious had once been his friend, or so he'd once believed, but Vader had never been his master's friend. Far, far from it. Behind the mask, his thoughts and feelings shielded, Vader's lip curled in a malevolent sneer. No, he was done. No longer would he be a slave of the Sith. No longer would he be a slave of the Jedi.

It was time to end this farce. Now.

Quick as Force-lightning, Vader called his lightsaber from his belt to his hand, igniting it in a swift motion, the red blade humming angrily to life with the familiar snap-hiss, as he used the Force to throw it as hard as possible at his intended target - piercing straight into his master's chest, embedding the blade completely into and then through the wretched scoundrel's body.

Sidious' gold eyes flared furiously, his mouth opening in a scream…but no sound came out. No sound save a gurgling noise of the dying and the hum of his lightsaber, as he called it back into his outstretched hand. As soon as it was removed from his chest, Sidious toppled forward from his chair face-first onto the floor.

Dead.

Vader paused, waiting, stretching out with the Force. The figure before him was certainly dead. He'd felt the thing's life force slip away into the Force itself.

And yet…

Something was amiss. There was still so much darkness, so much power, still floating through the room, throughout the entire galaxy. Sidious' Force signature still blazed in the Force - despite his dead carcass lying prone before him. That shouldn't be. It was most...odd, to say the least. And, most unexpected. It was as if killing the Emperor hadn't done much of anything at all…

There was another flash of warning from the Force, and Vader felt the hair on the back of his neck rise with the intensity of it. It practically pulsed all around him.

_I've got a bad feeling about this._

Harsh, familiar laughter suddenly echoed behind him, and Vader whirled, igniting his blade once more. There, flickering to life on the holoscreens lining the wall, was the image of Lord Sidious. "So close," Sidious chided mockingly, "So close, and yet so far. You still have much to learn, my young apprentice." The title was uttered with such derision, as the old man glared at him through the screen.

Vader stood there, frozen, tentatively reaching out with the Force to prod the situation. The man behind him had definitely been Sidious. He'd felt it. And yet…The holo image seemed very much alive. A recording, perhaps? No. That wasn't right…

Sidious inclined his head to the body on the floor. "An experimental clone, I'm afraid. It's a shame. It took so long for me to figure out a clone that didn't go insane the moment they woke up. Force-sensitive clones are quite tricky, after all."

Kriff. Kriff kriff kriff kriff kriff….

"You didn't think it would be _that_ easy, did you?" Sidious spat, turning his glowing yellow eyes back on Vader. "I knew when taking you on as my apprentice that I would need to be extra cautious around you. You are, after all, extremely powerful in the Force. So, when you started acting strangely, I began to search the Force, and it revealed to me that this might be a distinct possibility. I had hoped it wasn't true. It seems, for once, I was wrong."

Vader continued to stretch out with his feelings to the other people on the ship, searching. If he was still on the ship, he might be able to track him down and kill him then. But…no. Dammit! Sidious wasn't there. Worse, he realized with a start, the Red Guards had vanished from the hallway.

Force, he had a _very_ bad feeling about this…

"Such a pity. I'm afraid, Lord Vader, your usefulness to me has been irrevocably _compromised_. I can't very well have an apprentice who is actively plotting my assassination, after all. And, I can tell you're still quite determined to end my life." He sighed dramatically, as if merely disappointed in a wayward student. "I suppose it can't be helped. But, don't worry. I'll be sure to give your final regards to your fleet." He paused, "That is, _if_ they survive."

Vader tensed, realizing what the Emperor was implying. Kriffing hells! Sidious knew were the _Executor _was. Whether by a spy overlooked in his ranks, or by some kind of tracking device he'd missed hidden onboard his flagship, it didn't damn well matter. The Emperor knew where his ship was.

And, if the timing was right...Padme would now be on that ship!

Force, _NO!_

"Wait…!" He screamed in futility, just as the smug image of the smirking Emperor suddenly cut off, disconnecting the transmission.

Right as multiple explosions rocked the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to your butts! This is basically the climax for part one of the story.   
Sorry for the late chapter. I was sick for a bit, then things got bad at work.   
The song for this chapter is Heroes Fall by Hidden Citizens and Essa  
Leave some love!   
Love,   
Ladyvader23


	20. The Ambush Pt 1

_Sith spit!_

He sure as hell hadn't considered this as a possibility! Not even remotely! Damn Sidious!

Vader had never moved so damn fast while wearing the kriffing suit. He had the Force, and he used it now to give him enhanced speed, making him almost a blur of motion as he raced for the turbolift.

The suit was usually too heavy to run that long in. Then again, as a Sith Lord, he rarely ever ran. He had no need to. But, when a ship was in the process of blowing up, one tended to move quite quickly and forget about insignificant trivialities...like the weight of their armor.

No, getting to the hangar bay and getting the hell off this doomed ship was all he cared about.

He reached the lift in record time, praying to the Force that it still worked. Thankfully, the doors swished open, and he was stuffing himself in, punching in the level of the hangar bay he'd left his ship in. Reaching out with the Force had him confirming it was still intact, but it wouldn't be for long. As long as the lift doors didn't open up to a fiery inferno, he didn't give a damn.

He'd never cared about the speed of a turbolift until that moment. For the first time ever, it felt agonizingly slow as it descended. All around him he could feel death in the Force as explosion after explosion ripped apart durasteel and rattled the imploding structure, slaughtering hundreds of innocent men and women aboard the ship in the process. Men and women Sidious had willingly sacrificed without a care in his attempt to kill Vader.

Or perhaps just to teach him a lesson. He highly doubted Sidious expected him to die here. No, Vader was much too resourceful for that. He'd proved that fact countless times over his entire life. So, all of this death, all of this panic and terror of innocent soldiers who had just been doing their jobs, was all for _nothing_.

For the first time in a long time, Vader felt a sickening jolt churning in his gut. Guilt.

Guilt that he hadn't destroyed Sidious when he should have two years ago. Guilt that it had taken him this long to come to his blasted senses. Guilt that there was nothing he could to help the poor souls on board this ship.

Guilt that he couldn't save them.

No. He had to save himself so that he could turn around and save his own crew and, most importantly, Padme. He was sure he could make it in time. The _Executor_ wasn't that far. A few hours jump, if he pushed the hyperdrive to its very limit. There was nothing he could do except hope Piett could keep the _Executor_ going until he got there. It certainly helped that it was the only super star destroyer in the entire galaxy, and it would take quite a bit for the ship to be brought down...but it didn't help that Sidious knew what it took to bring it down.

Kriff.

Suddenly, maddeningly, the lift jerked to a halt before it reached its destination. Vader cursed in Huttese, pulling his lightsaber out and igniting it as the lights in the lift blinked off. Power was down in that section of the ship. Maybe the whole ship. He stretched out again with the Force, judging the distance between the lift and where he needed to be. It wasn't that far. He'd climbed longer distances in turbolift shafts by hand with two full grown men hanging on him. He quickly pushed that memory aside as he stabbed his blade into the floor beneath him and quickly cut a hole out of the bottom just large enough for him to jump through.

For a few feet, he let himself fall, his cloak whipping in the wind rushing past him. Then, as his desired destination came closer, he stretched out with the Force and slowed his descent, pushing himself closer to the wall until he reached out with his mechanical hand and grasped one of the dangling, thick metal cords. He jerked to a halt, his shoulder joint complaining instantly with stabs of sharp pain shooting through him from the impact of it, but he ignored it. He didn't have time for the pain. He didn't have time for any of this, dammit!

He had to get to Padme!

So, gritting his teeth, he rappelled himself with the cable the rest of the way down the shaft to the appropriate door, bracing his legs against the lift shaft walls and using his lightsaber once more to cut out a hole big enough for him to get through.

This set of doors was thicker, so it took him longer than he would have liked to get through. When he did, he used the Force to push the metal out of the hole he'd cut and leapt through it, just as another massive explosion rocked the ship...and the lift he'd been in collapsed, falling behind him so fast he barely had time to realize that a mere moment later he would have been crushed.

An unfitting end for a Sith. Or whatever he now was. But that was a conundrum for a later time.

The hangar bay was sheer pandemonium. Soldiers and technicians dashed to and fro in a frantic attempt to get off the doomed it wasn't a fiery inferno, per se, (at least not yet) it was most definitely on fire. Multiple ships were either gone or had exploded already. Men lay dead or dying all across the hangar bay floor, men that he stepped over in his rush to get to his own ship which, thankfully, was still there and intact. Not that anyone could have stolen it. It required clearance codes to fly that only he and his own personal pilots were privy to.

But as he approached the ship, a warning trilled through the Force that had him pausing before the open ramp. While it wasn't possible for anyone here to fly his ship, it _was_ possible to sabotage it.

Especially if the Emperor had known Vader would potentially betray him.

Ignoring his screaming instincts to get on the damn ship and fly straight to Padme, Vader stormed around to the front of his ship, prodding it with the Force even as he ran an expert look over the system. _There! _Sure enough, someone hadn't properly sealed the plate concealing the engine of the ship. Using the Force to rip the plate off, he peered inside.

Just as he suspected. Dammit!

A bomb. Wired into the ignition. Had he turned the ship on, it would have exploded, ripping it apart and killing him instantly.

Vader snorted in derision as he reached in and, with practiced fingers, removed the bomb. Of course, this triggered the count down, but he threw it far to the other side of the flight deck with the Force as he began checking the other parts of the ship. Clearly, whoever Sidious had ordered to sabotage his ship, didn't realize the Dark Lord was an excellent mechanic in addition to being an ace pilot and deadly Force wielder.

Imbeciles.

Finding a tracking device that suggested Sidious had anticipated Vader would likely locate the bomb, he crushed it with his metal hand and, now satisfied Sidious had no other nasty surprises waiting for him on his craft, he boarded the ship, entered his cockpit and began the take off sequence.

Technically, Lambda class shuttles were better flown with two people, but Vader was more than a skilled enough pilot to successfully finish the take off sequence in record time. None of the men on his own ship could have done it any faster. The ramp was lifted up, the engines roared to life, and the thrusters were pushing the ship out of the hangar bay and away from the now imploding ship with lightning speed. Vader didn't look back as he sensed the Emperor's flagship sputter for one last moment before it heaved and lurched, finally breaking apart in a massive explosion, pieces and chunks hurling like missiles in all directions throughout space.

A split second before he could activate the hyperdrive, however, something slammed into his shuttle, causing the whole vessel to shudder and roll sharply to the right. Instantly, an alarm began sounding in the cockpit. Righting the craft while looking down at the control panel with a frown, Vader cursed long and loud in every language he knew, his hands clenching around the controls reflexively. Dammit to all nine of the Corellian hells! A piece of the exploding ship must've pierced his hull, severing the landing gears hydraulics and preventing their use. _Kriff! This certainly complicates things. Damn you, Sidious! _Immediately flipping his shields on to maximum, he began contemplating different landing scenarios once he reached the _Executor_. Ruefully acknowledging his rather extensive prior experience with _happy landings_, he set his jaw with determination. He was the best pilot in the galaxy, dammit! He'd survived crash landings before. He'd survive this one, too.

But, if he didn't hurry, Vader knew his own star ship would meet a similar fate. All thanks to that conniving, black-hearted bastard he'd called Master.

Checking to make sure no further damage had occurred to his shuttle - specifically the hyperdrive - he heaved a sigh of relief to see it was fully functional. With rapid fire movements, his fingers flew over the navicomputer, inputting the coordinates for the _Executor_. The moment they were in, he modified the hyperdrive sequence so that it would push the shuttle as fast as the ship could go without breaking the vessel apart. Once he was satisfied, he pulled back on the lever, engaging the hyderdrive, and the star lines expanded until the ship blasted into the hyperlane.

Two hours. He had two hours to reach the _Executor_ to save his wife and crew. He didn't know what he'd do once he got there-he'd need to assess the situation when he saw it. But he would make damn sure Padme survived. She had to. He couldn't lose her now.

And Luke and Leia needed her.

Dammit! If only he could contact her. He'd left his encrypted Sandstorm comm back in his quarters on the _Executor_. He could try Piett, but if they were already under attack, Piett might not respond. He was running out of options, faced with the prospect of being confined to tight quarters while he waited, anxiously and helplessly, to get to his ship and his beloved wife.

Unless…

No. It was madness. Insanity. The idea was so preposterous that he instantly recoiled. He hadn't touched _that_ bond since he'd turned to the Dark Side. He didn't even know if it still existed. At least not in a usable form. Sure, he could feel it deep down. He could practically feel the dusty Force cobwebs on the bond he'd once shared with his previous master, broken and left to rot. Kenobi had clearly severed their bond on Mustafar.

But what other choice did he have? If the battle had yet to start, he needed to warn his wife, warn Piett and his crew, and if his wife was on board the _Executor_, he was certain Kenobi was, too.

He had run out of options.

This was the only other thing he could try.

So, with a scowl, he tentatively reached deep down to that broken bond, grasping it tightly and broadcasting his message…

_Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope._

* * *

"Well, there it is."

"I still say this is more like...like _suicide."_

"_You would say that," _was muttered under her breath.

"Excuse me? What did you just say?" Arched eyebrows reached the hairline of her copilot, as he turned to stare at her.

Heaving an exasperated sigh, she replied, "I _said, _Duly noted," while typing in the comm codes Vader had provided to hail his ship.

Narrowing his blue-green eyes, the Jedi Master simply leaned back in his chair, reaching up to stroke his ginger beard, "Hmmm…"

At that moment, the comm beeped, and she reached over to flip it on.

"Greetings, Lady Nightblade. You are cleared for landing." A woman with a cultured, imperial accent said over the ship's comm frequency. Padme didn't bother to respond as she switched the comm off and began to guide the ship towards the indicated hangar bay. Even on a massive star destroyer like the _Executor_, she could tell it was the primary bay.

Likely meaning, it was Vader's personal one.

As she guided the ship, she tried not to think of what would be awaiting her, or the possibility of this being a trap. But to be fair, Vader hadn't captured her either during their last few meetings as Vader and Nightblade, nor during her unknowing meetings with him as Sandstorm, even though he'd had ample opportunity to do so...even after having found her hiding place on Gandle Ott and literally visiting her in her own home.

No, he'd walked away, left her and the children alone, unharmed. Which she still didn't understand.

However, the idea of confronting him made her stomach twist into knots and her mind swirl in confusion…and indecision on what to do. To the side, Obi-Wan had the holovid on, playing what was now being broadcast on every known station across the galaxy.

Vader's message.

So far, it had been basically what he'd told the Alliance. He had killed the Emperor. He and his men were retreating into exile, and he had no desire to take up the mantle of Emperor. The transfer of power would go back to the Senate immediately, and the Empire would dissolve as the Senate deemed appropriate. It was as he was mentioning the removal of bounties and war crimes on members of the Rebellion that she finished docking the ship into his private hangar bay.

Just looking out the viewport at the fancy, modified ships was enough to confirm this was definitely his personal hangar.

When she powered the ship down, the holovid switched off, too. "He's not here yet." Obi-Wan stated grimly in response to her unspoken question, turning to give her a pointed look. "Honestly, the galaxy doesn't feel any different than it did yesterday. Or even an hour ago. I should think if Sidious were dead, a massive shift in the Force would've occurred, and yet, I've sensed nothing. So, how do we know he really killed the Emperor? How do we know this isn't a trap?"

They didn't. "It's a little late to turn back now." She pointed out dryly, reaching up to place her mask over her nose and mouth, hiding her lower face. "If we attempt to escape and it is a trap, the tractor beam will keep us from getting away from the _Executor_."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "He might very well decide to throw _me_ out of an airlock the moment he senses me here."

"He promised us both that we'd leave here unharmed, Obi-Wan. Have a little faith."

"I don't _need_ faith. He's a Sith. Sith don't keep promises." He was right, of course. But again, it was too late to turn back now. Even if it was a fool's hope, even if it was so small that she could barely feel it, she had to know.

She had to investigate. To know what happened...and why_._

Her Anakin would have done the same for her, had the tables been turned. She didn't respond to him as she keyed in the release on the ramp and got out of the pilot's chair to leave the ship. With a sigh and muttering under his breath about stubborn Skywalkers being the death of him, Obi-Wan pulled on his hood and grudgingly trudged after her.

Waiting at the bottom of the ramp was a lone man. None of the grand Imperial fanfare that she'd so often seen presented for important visitors, meant to intimidate and impress. Just one lone man.

An Admiral, if his insignia on his uniform was to be believed.

As she appeared, he gave a short, stiff bow. "Lady Nightblade." His accent was also cultured. Inner core. Imperial. Yet, there was nothing but respect in his tone. How odd. And, rather unexpected. She'd anticipated frosty civility at best. Not courteous politeness."It's a true pleasure to finally meet you, Madam."

She tilted her head, observing the man with a keen eye. Admiral. Every admiral she'd met before had been sniveling, power hungry bootlickers. She assumed the Admiral on Vader's ship would be no less, given that he served on one of the most powerful vessels - if not _the_ most powerful - in the known universe under the command of the junior Sith Lord in the galaxy, the Second in Command of the entire Empire. But if he was, he was excellent at hiding it. "I highly doubt that." She replied, as she strode down the ramp with firm, determined steps. Behind her, Obi-Wan followed closely on her heels. "I have, after all, killed many of your fellow officers."

"Try not to upset him, Milady. There's no need to remind him of that." Obi-Wan stated dryly from beside her, his face hidden deep inside his hood, his hands folded together inside his cloak sleeves.

Still, as the man straightened, he didn't look that concerned at all. Quirking an eyebrow, his lips twitched and his tone was, dare she say, almost amused."To be fair, Milady, so has your husband."

She raised an eyebrow herself. So. Vader had told him at least the bare minimum of their _legal_ relationship. She ran another appraising look over the man, re-evaluating him and the situation. An Admiral, and a man Vader trusted enough with their deepest secret. "Your name?" She demanded.

"Admiral Piett, at your service, Milady." He replied with another smart bow of his head.

Piett. Interesting. She'd never seen his name come up on lists of Imperials who had committed awful atrocities. In fact, she hadn't heard his name at all. Strange, for someone so high up. How very...peculiar."Where is Lord Vader?" She would still not admit openly that he was her husband.

But then again, she hadn't denied it, either, this time.

Feeling something long dormant stirring to wakefulness deep within her gut at the thought of her husband, she ignored it and focused instead on the moment, and matter, at hand.

"He has not returned from his—ah, mission." Piett cleared his throat and stepped aside. "Please. Follow me. I've been instructed to guide you to the conference room in Lord Vader's private wing of the ship. He will meet you there when he returns."

A conference room. Impersonal. Business like. Again, not very much like her husband. Had he been acting as a husband, he probably would have sent Obi-Wan to some secluded holding cell while he brought her to his personal quarters in an attempt to persuade her to stay with him. Her lips twisted behind the mask at that thought. But of course, it wouldn't have worked. Vader likely knew that now, and…what, did he genuinely just want to talk?

Meeting in a conference room, especially with Obi-Wan present, suggested that yes, he just intended to talk. Nothing more.

It only added to her confusion. And, her unease.

Admiral Piett led them through the corridors of the ship. While it had an updated feel to it, it was eerily similar to the ships the Republic had utilized under the Jedi's command during the Clone Wars. _Because_, she reminded herself bitterly, _the_ _Republic_ _had_ _morphed_ _into_ _the_ _Empire_. Her sworn enemy was once the very thing she'd fought so long and hard for. Now, everything once useful for good had been put into the service of unmitigated evil. Even the very ships the Jedi, and therefore her husband, had commanded.

There were no soldiers or Stormtroopers in the hallways. The only beings they passed were droids of various makes, models, and sizes. "Where is everyone?" Obi-Wan wondered aloud. A surprise. She'd doubted he'd speak to the Imperial, but she supposed even The Negotiator couldn't keep himself from making polite conversation...or fishing for information. _Jedi_, she couldn't help but think with a snort.

"This is Lord Vader's personal wing of the ship. Members of the 501st typically patrol these halls, but given today's, ah, unusual _circumstances_, all hands have evacuated this section of the ship and are ready at their assigned battle stations." Admiral Piett replied with a quick glance to Padme before turning straight ahead again.

But she ignored the look, instead focusing on the last part of his statement. "Battle stations?" She echoed, slowing her steps a little, her eyebrows arched.

Piett nodded. "Yes, Milady. In case Lord Vader fails."

_Force!_

Padme's mouth went dry at the thought. She admittedly hadn't considered that possibility. No. That thought hadn't even entered her mind. Vader seemed so much stronger than the frail Emperor. In fact, he'd killed Dooku. Why would he fail in killing another Sith?

"So, he's really doing it then?" Obi-Wan questioned tensely. There was clearly still disbelief in his voice.

Piett didn't reply for a moment before he stopped at a door and turned to face them. "So our briefings say, yes."

Padme tilted her head, considering him. "And you're just going to follow him into an unknown future? Into exile to who knows where? You and _all_ of your crew?" Surely, there had to be those who didn't want to leave their families and lives behind.

"If that's what Lord Vader asks of us, we will do it." Piett replied with only the slightest hesitation. "We knew what we signed up for in joining Lord Vader's crew, Milady...just as you knew what you agreed to when you became an assassin for the Rebellion. Perhaps one day we can return to a galaxy at peace, but until then, we will serve Lord Vader faithfully."

She frowned behind her mask, even more confused than ever. She'd heard stories of how Vader killed his men for the slightest of mistakes, the merest infraction. She'd assumed his people would be absolutely terrified of him. Perhaps they were, but there was still something akin to unwavering loyalty in Piett's demeanor. Shocking and most unexpected to say the least. There were likely people aboard who were more _hesitant_ than their Admiral, but still...She didn't understand it.

Piett cleared his throat and motioned to the door as it swished open to reveal a simple, plain conference room with a viewport showing the black emptiness of space. "We will wait for Lord Vader in here. I've been instructed to wait with you until he returns."

Great. She didn't exactly fancy making small talk with the man. But, she supposed if he was waiting with them, they weren't likely being thrown into a prison cell. Or…whatever else Vader could do given their unusual circumstances. _Like_ _the_ _airlock_ _scenario_ _Obi-Wan_ _mentioned_.

Thankfully, Piett didn't seem to mind the silence, oppressive though it was. As Padme and Obi-Wan settled down in the not-too-comfortable chairs surrounding the oblong conference table, Piett pulled out a data pad and began to work, tapping away at the keys when it became clear neither she nor the Jedi were interested in idle chit chat.

Padme thought it would continue that way until Vader returned, but suddenly Obi-Wan stiffened, his body going taut as his blue-green eyes narrowed. "Admiral." He bit out harshly, shaking the other man from his work.

"What's wrong?" Padme asked, going tense as well. Her hand inched toward the lightsaber at her side.

"Vader failed. We're about to be under attack."

The words were pained, with just a hint of shocked disbelief, as if Obi-Wan couldn't _quite_ believe he was uttering the words himself.

Padme's body went ice cold. Failed. What the kriff did that mean? Was An…Vader _dead?_ Or had he turned on them once again? Or perhaps the Emperor had captured him….?

Admiral Piett frowned, but he was already opening up communication channels with the bridge on his data pad. "How do you know this, Master Jedi?" He was asking as he moved, his fingers quick and precise as he punched in orders on the data pad. Shortly afterwards, the wail of Imperial alarms began resounding throughout the ship, making Padme wince, a shudder racing through her.

Battle stations.

"Because, Admiral, Vader told me himself." Obi-Wan's voice was tight with displeasure. Padme's frown deepened. She hadn't known any shred of their Force connection was still there, let alone that Vader would use it.

If Piett thought that was weird, he didn't let on. Honestly, he was probably used to the eccentric ways of his Sith commander. Communicating through the Force with a Jedi from wherever he was in the galaxy was probably not on the top of strange things Piett had seen while working for the Sith Lord. He stood up abruptly, and the doors to the conference room swished open. "I must go to the bridge." He said as he left, but Padme and Obi-Wan were already following him. He paused. To the left of them was a large viewport peering into the endless blackness of space. "Lord Vader would likely prefer you stayed here…"

Padme stared out. So far, there were no signs of them being under attack.

"Be that as it may, Admiral," Obi-Wan growled tersely, "I was a general in the Clone Wars. I commanded Star Destroyers…albeit smaller ones. What's more, I have the Force. I can help."

"Why would _you_ want to help _us?"_ Piett asked, obviously surprised, though he did his best to hide it.

Obi-Wan glanced at Padme, who barely noticed. Her eyes were still searching out the viewport, looking for the first signs of the danger that was to come. "Because we're stuck on this ship with you. It's the least I can do if I want to get us," he motioned between Padme and himself, "out of this mess alive."

Padme flinched. Unlike Obi-Wan, she had no experience commanding starships or battle cruisers. She wasn't a military tactician. She had been aboard Star Destroyers before, yes, but only as a passenger. Her assassin training didn't exactly cover this sort of military combat. For the first time in a long time, she actually felt helpless in the coming battle. She wouldn't be of much use unless, Force forbid, they were boarded. She highly doubted she'd be able to negotiate a peaceful way out of this looming conflagration either, especially given that she was supposed to be dead and Sidious no doubt wanted her to stay that way.

Diplomatic aspirations would therefore be futile.

Piett hesitated, but just as he did, six Star Destroyers appeared out of hyperspace in the distance. He swore, turning on his heel and running for the lift doors. "Let's go, General!" Piett called back over his shoulder.

Obi-Wan was already moving. "Nightblade, stay here!" Obi-Wan shouted over his shoulder before he too disappeared into the lift, leaving Padme alone and feeling utterly alone and worse...helpless.

She stared out at the fast approaching ships, dread coiling in her stomach, as they began to fire upon the _Executor_. The ship shuddered, but the shields held. But, for how long? She didn't know. She didn't know all that much about a normal Star Destroyer's capabilities, other than the very basics. She couldn't even begin to guess how long the shields on the Super Star Destroyer would hold. She didn't know if, despite its size, it could win against six destroyers. If Sidious was still alive, and Vader had failed…then the entire galaxy knew of his treachery by now. Sidious would have made sure of it.

Thus, there would be no one coming to help, to render aid. With dread, she realized...they were on their own. One ship against probably the entire Imperial Navy.

_Kriff!_

The ship was shifting, turning to face the oncoming attackers head on. TIE fighters began to pour out from some unknown hangar bay, screeching past the viewport. She began to move, unconsciously, looking for another viewport to better watch the unfolding battle. She wished she'd gone with Piett and Obi-Wan, if only so that she could see the technical readouts of the battle. She supposed she could try to find the bridge on her own, but she'd likely get lost, and she was sure all of Vader's personnel were a little busy at the moment trying to keep the ship from being annihilated.

She found another viewport that brought the six star destroyers back into view. The _Executor_ was firing back now with all its laser cannons, and other TIEs from the other destroyers had come out en force to defend their own ships. They were now locked in a brutal dog fight with the _Executor's_ own fighter pilots, explosions lighting up the immediate vicinity, as ships were hit and broke apart in a molten shower of debris.

Other than the clanging noise of the ongoing alarms and the occasional shuddering of the ship, she couldn't hear anything. Space was silent. The only noises you could hear out there were from your own ship. Here, stuck alone in the massive expanse of rooms that made up Vader's private quarters, the scene playing out before her, as chaotic and frenetic as it was, stayed eerily silent. She shuddered and crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms.

It was like being stuck on Coruscant again. All those times…watching Anakin leave her, never knowing when or if he was going to come back home. She knew he was capable. If anything, he was the most likely of all the Jedi to come home to her, alive at least. Still. It was war. Accidents happened. Even to Jedi. She'd thrown herself into her work in the Senate, hoping that if she could maybe find a diplomatic solution, she could help end the war sooner rather than later.

And thereby increase Anakin's - and the rest of the Jedi's - chances of survival.

Now, here she stood. Alone. Helpless. Watching. Waiting. And this time, there was no Senate to throw herself into. Perhaps she should have insisted on taking a TIE out there. True, she wasn't as accomplished a fighter pilot as Anakin, but she was still a Skywalker, dammit! She was still just as good, if not more so, than many of the TIE pilots under Vader's command. But, no question that Obi-Wan wouldn't have let her. TIE's didn't have shielding, for one thing. And, she hadn't ever been alone in a dog fight before, either. She'd always had Anakin or Obi-Wan with her whenever she'd gotten into a battle in space.

She uncrossed her arms and clenched her fists, hating the feeling of impotence that gripped her. She had become an assassin, in part to never feel this way again, and yet here she stood. Powerless. Ineffective. Useless. It was galling, really.

She didn't know how long it was she stood there. Minutes? Hours? She didn't know. It seemed interminable, but she stood so long. Eyes glued to the raging battle until her feet began to ache and her back strained from staying still for too long. At one point, the lead attacking Star Destroyer's shields broke under the _Executor's _overpowering offensive, and soon enough, she watched the hull of the ship break up into smaller bits with explosions ripping through it's underbelly.

Her jaw clenched. _One_ _down_, _five_ _to_ _go_, she thought grimly. How much shielding did they have left? How much shielding did the other five ships have?

More importantly, where the hell was Vader?

Something suddenly caught her eye. Blinking, she whipped her head around, squinting to try and get a better view. A Lamda class shuttle, damaged but still moving swiftly to adjust course away from the fire fight it had almost dropped out of hyperspace into. She frowned. What was that doing there? Again, she was no expert in ships, but she knew enough about that particular model to know that it was a luxury ship with very few weapons. They usually carried important Imperials or other dignitaries. She figured one day she'd have to know the basics of that model of ship if she needed to assassinate someone onboard one. The last place she'd ever expect to see one then would be in the middle of a space battle.

For one absurd moment, she thought it might have been the Emperor himself come to view the destruction of Vader's precious flagship. She quickly realized that wasn't possible. The Emperor would have been on one of the Star Destroyers if that were the case, but if he was stupid enough to take a shuttle to the battle, he wouldn't do it on an already damaged ship. Plus, there would be an escort with him. There was none of that.

So, no. This couldn't be Sidious.

As it looped towards the _Executor_, coming in at full speed, Padme gasped aloud as understanding hit her, her right hand flying up to clutch around the base of her throat.

Vader. It had to be him.

It was coming right for the hangar she herself had arrived in hours before. There was smoke trailing behind the ship, but it held steady. It raced away from the battle at such a high rate of speed, that she thought it might make it away safely.

At least until a stray blast, or a particularly well aimed one, hit one of the wings of the ship.

She cried out, both her hands flying up to her mouth, which was still shielded behind her mask, as she watched the ship veer off course, the whole ship shuddering and shimmying, then barely straighten itself out. It was almost to the _Executor_. Just a little further…

But it wasn't slowing down.

She was moving before she even made the conscious decision to do so. The doors to the conference room whisked open. She ran down the corridor at a flat out sprint, running faster than she'd ever run before. Her feet leading her unerringly toward the hangar bay, desperation driving her every step.

No. Not today. Not now, not when hope was suddenly _so_ close…

She reached the hangar just in time to see Vader's ship come barreling in out of control, slamming to the deck with tremendous force, skidding and screeching across the deck plating, leaving a trail of fiery sparks in its wake, until it finally went careening headlong into the far opposite wall, smashing into the durasteel with an ear piercing _boom._

And practically disintegrated in an explosion of flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! Yeah, it's a two parter. Sorry not sorry.   
The song for this chapter is Suspicious Minds by Chase Holfelder  
Leave some love!  
Love,   
Ladyvader23


	21. The Ambush Pt 2

"_No!" _The denial screamed from her lips as if ripped from her very soul.

For one gut-wrenching second, she froze, her feet skidding to a halt, and Padme was certain her heart actually stopped beating for a moment before a wave of panic rose to engulf her, forcing her to charge ahead.

"Ani! Ani! Ani Ani Ani Ani Ani..._ANI!_"

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breathing became labored, a high pitched ringing drowning anything and everything else out. Her entire body felt numb as she moved. She didn't realize she was scrambling until she almost tripped trying to get down the stairs. She caught herself at the last second, shaking hands clutching the rail for balance, and continued skipping two stairs at a time to get down to the hangar bay landing dock.

Or what was left of it.

Her eyes remained glued to the flaming wreckage that was Anakin's ship. She didn't know what she was intending to do once she reached it. All she knew was she would get him out of there. Alive. And if he was dead, well, she'd bring him back from it, too.

The fact that, in her mind, she wasn't thinking of him as Vader totally escaped her as she dashed across the deck to try and reach him.

Never mind that she was pretty useless in this circumstance. After all, her uniform was only slightly flame retardant. The inferno that currently devoured Anakin's ship would be much too intense for her to take.

She didn't give a damn.

But, as she sprinted headlong towards the mangled remains of the ship, the wreckage suddenly heaved, and she barely had time to slide to a stop when the smoking mass of twisted durasteel and flames split down the middle with a bone-shaking screech, belching out a pyroclastic wave of melting heat and debris, heat that she could feel on her face even from where she stood.

"ANI!"

She didn't even realize she was yelling. More importantly, the line between Anakin and Vader had, in that moment, blurred at last. It didn't erase the fact that Vader existed, and that he'd done terrible, horrible, unspeakable things to the galaxy and, more importantly, to their family, but he _was_ still her husband. Somewhere inside there anyway. The fact that they were presently under attack by the Empire made that rather obvious. She didn't think even the Emperor would go so far as to threaten the life of an apprentice as powerful as Vader unless he'd betrayed him.

Obviously, Vader had at least _attempted_ to assassinate Sidious, which was a good thing. Maybe? Maybe not? Truthfully, she wasn't entirely sure what to think about that, but, in all honesty, she didn't have the time to contemplate it. Not right now. She just needed him to live. They could figure out specifics later if he would just live.

Sure enough, as the dust began to settle and the smoke began to clear, the heat died down and a black figure emerged from the wreckage, stumbling and hunched over, but moving, breathing, _alive. _For now.

Thank the Force.

She was vaguely aware that her mouth moved, soundlessly, as she attempted to go to him...but suddenly found herself unable to move, as if blocked by an invisible shield. She was startled for a moment, but she'd been around enough Jedi and Sith to recognize the Force being used to hold her back from moving forward to help him. She wasn't completely immobile, because she stumbled back a step easily as he continued to stalk toward her in his hulking armor, but anytime she tried to move forward to meet him halfway, her body seized up.

Protecting her, as usual. When she didn't want it. Figured.

Sith or Jedi, Dark Side or Light, there were just some things about her husband that would never change.

"Stop that!" She demanded, frustration finally breaking through the hold of absolute terror that had gripped her, now that she knew he was alive. "I'm just trying to help!"

He didn't answer for a moment, and her eyes narrowed as she realized he was moving erratically. He stumbled and swayed, his armor still smoking-clearly much more fire retardant than her own uniform-and she realized the mechanical breathing of his suit sounded...labored.

The frustration and anxiety instantly increased. He was injured. But, where?

Her eyes scanned him from helmet to heel, looking for any signs of injury. It was a nasty crash-even his suit would have had a hard time protecting him from sustaining internal injuries. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to see it…

No. There. Lodged in his side, a long, thin, black piece of shrapnel poked out from the folds of his armor, almost obscured by the now tattered cloak (which, apparently, had not been flame retardant).

She gasped, and this time when she tried to go to him, he let her. Evidently, he'd decided he was well enough away from the wreckage to allow her to approach him, and she reached him this time. She reached out with both hands to touch him, then stopped, drawing away instead. She honestly had no idea what she could do to help him. She wasn't a doctor or a medic. She only had basic first aid knowledge, and this was _way_ beyond that. "You need a medical droid." She finally rasped through her mask.

Anakin...Vader...whoever he was, reached up slowly and began to unfasten the mask. It must be suffocating in there, she realized as he managed to pull it off, and he gasped painfully. Again, she was struck by just how pale he was now, and by how much weight he had lost since he'd been her Jedi, her Anakin. Frankly, he looked like he was almost at death's door. "There are more important things to worry about," he finally managed to gasp out, one hand going to his side.

"Don't touch it, you'll only make it worse!" She snapped at him, her voice sounding harsher than she'd meant it to, but...well, could he blame her? The last two years couldn't exactly disappear in an instant, even if she was scared to death.

The ship shuddered and shook around them, and vaguely she recalled they were still in the midst of a fierce battle that they would very likely lose. "I'm aware of that," he replied dryly, one eyebrow arching, his lips twisting as he looked at her. He was much calmer than she was currently feeling-at least outwardly.

Sure enough, now that she really looked at him, she was surprised - and maybe even delighted? - to see that his eyes had lost that Sith gold color. Now, just like Sola had claimed, they were the same cerulean blue that haunted her dreams nightly...albeit filled with pain and exhaustion right now instead of the love and passion she remembered. "But, we're in the middle of an impossible battle, if you haven't noticed. I need to get back out there and help my men to try and increase our odds of surviving."

Padme's jaw dropped open, and she reached up to pull off her own mask so he could not only feel her disbelief and disagreement in the Force, but actually _see_ it as well. "By the Force! You are in no state to be fighting in any battles! Are you out of your mind? _Kriff!_ Anakin, you can barely stand upright, in case _you_ haven't noticed!"

Instead of rebuking her, the corners of his lips twitched upwards in obvious amusement. "Anakin, huh?" His voice was strained in an attempt at teasing her, but it didn't quite sound believable.

She simply glared back at him, choosing, for the moment, to ignore the very real significance of the use of his given name instead of his Sith title. "Don't change the subject."

"Oh, but I _do_ intend to have that conversation with you, My Love. Whether you like it or not."

"Only if we survive this debacle because otherwise, it seems a moot point."

"Yes, well, to survive, I need to get back out _there_. I'm the best pilot in the galaxy. You can be assured that Sidious will be sending more ships. So, the best place for me to be is outside this ship in the thick of battle." He motioned with a gloved hand towards the hangar bay entrance.

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "You literally have shrapnel sticking in your side."

"It looks worse than it is. My suit protected me from the worst of it." He waved a hand dismissively. She didn't know how true that actually was. Honestly, could she really say she trusted him at all? She once did. Then, she didn't at all. Now...she had no idea what to think.

But he had a valid point. They _were_ under attack.

The odds were completely stacked against them. It suddenly occurred to her that once upon a time, it would have been Anakin trying to stop her from doing her duty for her people in the name of protecting her. Now, the roles were reversed, and here she was, fighting her instincts to ignore his protestations and call a medical droid anyway, while he was the one focusing on the goal of making sure everyone on board survived. Including her.

For the first time in their marriage, she began to understand him. She thought she had back in the days of the Republic, but thinking back on it, she realized now it had only been intellectual understanding and sympathy. She hadn't truly understood him. She had always been so focused on her own duty, that she hadn't understood his true motivation when Anakin had wanted to abandon duty to '_play_ _around_,' as she'd once viewed it. Because of that, she hadn't truly comprehended at all how he could turn against everything he'd once claimed to believe in all in the name of saving her.

But now, standing there with his declared duty warring with her desire to keep him safe, to make sure his life was saved, she began to truly understand his thought processes. Ok, maybe not fully, and it still didn't excuse anything he'd done to the detriment of the galaxy and to their family, but...she finally began to see how he would do anything to save her.

Still. He wouldn't last out there by himself. Being the most powerful Force wielder aside, he was clearly struggling just to stay upright. The Force would only help him so much. In that moment, she saw her chance to be useful.

So, she took it.

"Ok. Fine. But, I'll be your gunner."

Anakin/Vader blinked, startled for a moment before his eyes and his expression hardened. "Absolutely _not_. I literally rushed here - in a damaged ship, no less - just to make sure I could protect you. I'm not about to turn around and drag you out there into a dogfight with me…"

Rolling her eyes, she arched her eyebrows at him, crossed her arms over her chest and essentially dared him to refute her next statement. "But, I'm in this battle whether you like it or not. Besides...You're way too injured to be out there in an intense dogfight on your own. And, you know it."

He pointed a finger at her, giving her an intense look, "You don't know the power of the…"

"Yes, yes, I'm aware," she cut him off, reaching out and pushing his finger away from her face. She doubted any of his men would dare do that to him, and secretly it pleased her to see the scowl on his face as he likely thought that, too. Being his wife obviously afforded her such a privilege, and she knew her smirk told him so, making him huff in irritation...but he said nothing, a silent acknowledgment that she was right, which she couldn't deny she found amusing, even in such dire circumstances. "But, you are also notorious for ignoring the needs of your body. So, I'm going with you, and I'll be your gunner since you are, as you correctly stated, a better pilot than anyone else in the galaxy, even in this state."

His expression darkened. "We might not make it out of this alive, Padme. The twins need you."

This was true. "But if we fail, I'll die whether I'm with you out there or not. I would rather be doing something to improve our chances and change our fate than to simply stand here and watch from the sidelines and let fate make the decision for me."

Though he still hesitated, she could see the pain was overwhelming him, reminding him that she was right. Again. He couldn't do this alone if he truly planned on going out there. He was silent so long that, when another shudder rocked the ship, she opened her mouth to insist again, but he held up a gloved hand, stopping her.

"Fine." His voice was clipped, irritated, worried, but he was already moving (slowly) towards one of the still intact TIE fighters sitting in the hangar bay. "I guess if we die, we do it together this time."

She had no intention of either of them dying. He was right-Luke and Leia needed her. No. Needed them. But, she didn't voice that. Now wasn't the time to discuss his potential role, if any, in their children's lives. "Let's go then, shall we?"

She followed after him, determination flooding her veins, a part of her secretly thrilled to be taking on the Emperor's minions _with her husband_ at her side instead of Obi-Wan. It was just like old times, Anakin and Padme, the Skywalkers fighting together against all the odds.

"May the Force be with us, Ani," she whispered after they climbed into the TIE and got buckled in, as he prepped the fighter for launch.

After a momentary pause, his reply came just as soft, "Indeed, Angel. May the Force be with us."

With that, they lifted off from the deck, he engaged the thrusters, and they shot out of the hangar bay, barreling straight into the fray.

* * *

"_E chu ta!_" He swore in Huttese, adding a string of vile comments after it he knew Padme wouldn't know.

Not that it mattered. His wife knew the score.

And, the fact was...they were totally screwed. He knew it. She knew it, and blast it all, he was a kriffing _fool_ for letting her come with him on what was basically a suicide run. Because, though he hated to admit it, his wife was correct.

He was in absolutely no condition to fight.

He'd known that the moment the ship had crashed and exploded upon hitting the wall, and he'd felt the blinding, shooting pain pierce his side upon impact. _Another_ _happy_ _landing_, Obi-Wan might have called it. But, he wasn't about to tell Padme that. He wasn't about to tell her how much it hurt, or how his vision frequently went blurry as he weaved their way through the battle, and he had to rely on the Force to guide him. It wasn't exactly a good state to command anything in, much less fly in battle in.

He had no choice though.

He'd spoken the truth to her earlier. He was the best pilot in the galaxy, even in his growing incapacitated state. The Force would guide him through the stars, through the litany of fighters streaming all around them. It always had, and it always would. He was a Skywalker, after all.

The name clanged through his mind over and over again as he maneuvered the ship through the ever increasing debris field,dodging cannon fire and laser shots. Skywalker. His old name. His _birth_ name. The name he shared with his mother. A name he had once been so proud of. Yet...it somehow seemed foreign to him now. Not quite his own. But, Padme had called him Anakin again. Ani, even. His old nickname bestowed upon him by his beloved mother. His wife had made it crystal clear to him she wouldn't call him that ever again. She had, in fact, considered that part of him long dead. So, if she was suddenly calling him by that old endearment again, perhaps she saw something in him that he himself didn't fully see just yet.

Maybe. But, now wasn't the time to consider such matters.

No. Now, it was just about staying alive.

His vision blurred again as the Force trilled a warning, and he pulled the ship into a fast spiral. "Oh Force, I forgot what that felt like…" Padme grumbled when he straightened out and dove back into battle. Despite the dire situation, he grinned. Though he didn't really want her anywhere near the gunner's seat, he was actually glad she was there. Her presence, even now as his body was rocked with painful shudders around the shrapnel still sticking from his side, soothed him. It calmed the raging fury that was directed at the man who had tricked him, had lied to him, and had destroyed everything he'd once cared about. It soothed his whirling, distracted thoughts about what it meant that she'd come to him, whether or not she'd brought Obi-Wan was immaterial, what he would say to her if they survived this.

Padme was soothing, like she always had been.

Even as she was effortlessly destroying enemy TIE fighters with the ship's advanced blasters. Smirking, he had to admit his wife's aim was dead on...and together, they made a lethal combination.

The comm on the control panel suddenly lit up. Using the Force, for he dared not release the iron grip he held on the ship's controls, he turned it on-voice only. He wasn't quite ready to give the guise of Lord Vader up just yet. "This had better be important."

The moment he spoke, he winced. His voice, without his helmet, sounded less intimidating. No less commanding, but...it wasn't the deep booming mechanized voice of Vader.

It was the smooth baritone voice of General Skywalker.

"Ah." He instantly recognized the voice as Piett's, and he winced. "L-Lord Vader?"

Clearly, the new voice threw Piett off.

"Yes, Admiral, get on with what you're calling about. I'm in the middle of trying to help save the fleet." On queue, he dove under another enemy TIE fighter, and behind him he heard Padme go for the trigger and the little red dot on his scopes disappeared. He felt the enemy pilot's life blink out and disintegrate into the Force. Truly, his wife was an amazing shot. Another hesitation. No doubt Piett was considering whether or not to believe him. Rolling his eyes, Vader opened his mouth to give the code phrase that only Piett would know, should his identity ever come into question. He'd never thought he'd ever have to use it, but it seemed now was the time. "The Angel is at Varykino."

From behind him, he sensed Padme tense, heard her quick inhale of breath, and he realized she'd know exactly why he chose that phrase. He told himself his face had gone hot due to the injury in his side - and not from the surge of desire for his Angel he felt flood his veins, which he chose to ignore - as Piett cleared his throat. "Yes, My Lord. Sorry. While we have destroyed the majority of the cruisers, there are incoming signals headed for the starboard side of the ship. The shields have dropped to fifteen percent. While the ship is holding together, I don't think…"

Vader inwardly cursed Sidious and his own stupidity for falling into this damn trap. Options were thin. If he was honest with himself, he didn't know how they would, or could, get themselves out of this one. It surely looked like the end. "Leave the last of these starships to me." He didn't know what he planned to do exactly. He'd think of something. His wife wasn't the only one who had mastered improvisation in this family. Perhaps he'd board and take the ship down from within. The problem with that plan was that boarding was risky at best and always had a higher chance of him going down with the ship, and this time he had Padme with him. So, that wasn't such a good idea, he had to admit, discarding the thought immediately.

For a moment, it sounded like Piett was talking to someone in the background. Then, Piett returned, his voice clearly uncomfortable as he said, "My Lord, I have a message for you from Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Rage flashed through Vader so hard and so fast, his vision went red and the control under his right hand crushed with the strength of his grip. He took in deep breaths, multiple nasty responses springing to his lips…responses he struggled to bury as he reminded himself that _he_ was the one who had allowed the man onto his ship. He hadn't been with Padme though, so where…?

"He says that he knows Nightblade is with you, and not to do anything...insane. She has others who depend on her." Piett continued, almost oblivious to his commander's rising anger.

Vader opened his mouth to bite out a scathing retort, but Padme beat him to it. "Tell him to stop fussing. I'm safer out here than anywhere else on that Force forsaken star ship. Focus on bringing down the incoming ships."

"Wait, why…? _Kriff_, he's not on the _bridge_, is he?!" Vader practically roared.

"Of course he is. You weren't here. He has experience leading battles on Star Destroyers. And, he has the Force. It only made sense for him to help. Cut the whining, will you!" Padme was completely unapologetic and unconcerned that she was in close quarters with an increasingly angry Sith Lord.

Vader spluttered, "I said he could come with you, _not_ take command of my men and my ship! Piett…"

"_Kriff!_ Will you just shut up?! For Force's sake, you know he's not going to stage a mutiny aboard your ship!" Padme interrupted furiously.

"No, I don't know that, and _no, _I won't shut up! He's a Jedi! He already took everything from me once before, why in the _hell_ wouldn't he take my ship, too….?"

"Er...My Lord, would you like me to, um, order him off the bridge?" Piett interrupted somewhat sheepishly, obviously rather surprised at the heated exchange taking place over the open comm channel between husband and wife - and that Vader had allowed his wife to speak to him in such a manner...and live.

"Yes!" Vader snarled through clenched teeth.

At the same time, Padme hotly demanded, "NO! Don't you _dare_, Admiral! Like it or not, we're in this fight together, and we need Master Kenobi there on the bridge. He stays, dammit!"

Vader let out a roar of frustration at his wife's tenacity, cursing in Huttese again. Clearly, they weren't exactly seeing completely eye to eye just yet.

But, they didn't have time to continue arguing the point further, because just as Piett had warned, another six cruisers jumped out of hyperspace at the _Executor's_ starboard side. Despite having faced grim odds before, Vader's stomach tightened. He didn't have to be experienced in battle to know the end when he saw it. "_Fine_. Let him help if he insists, Piett. The moment we're out of this situation, however, escort him back to a secure holding area. I will deal with him later." He ignored the grunt of disbelief and the hotly spewed expletives behind him.

Already, he was trying to figure out an alternative to keeping his wife alive. He didn't like running from battle. He should die beside his men. It was what Anakin Skywalker would do, had he been the only one leading this mission. But, he wasn't exactly Skywalker anymore. And, more to the point, he wasn't alone. Padme needed to survive, not only for him, but most importantly for their children, who even now were waiting back home on Gandle Ott for their mother's return. He'd modified all of his TIEs with both shielding and hyperspace capabilities. If he was quick enough, he could escape, jump into hyperspace and take her somewhere safe, leaving her there before returning to the _Executor_.

By then, it would likely be too late.

At least, that's what he assumed, until Piett's voice came over the comm again. "My Lord...they're hailing us."

Vader frowned. What?! This didn't add up. If they were sent by Sidious, they should have just started firing. Why contact them? "Put them through," Vader commanded, and a moment later another voice joined the call.

"Lord Vader, this is Admiral Donovan Kon. We are here to assist in your cause, My Lord." The voice was unfamiliar. Vader frowned in disbelief as he dodged yet another TIE that was instantly blown to bits by his trigger happy wife.

"You would betray your Emperor, Admiral?" Vader pressed with disbelief in his tone, not believing his ears. He didn't have to. The six ships cruised past the _Executor_, entering into attack formation as it closed in on the remaining, badly damaged cruiser.

"With all due respect, My Lord," The Admiral sniffed, "We recognize who _truly_ holds the reins of power in this Empire."

With that, all six ships began to open fire. Within moments, the last enemy ship disintegrated before their very eyes, lighting up the sky with explosion after explosion. He felt the deaths of all onboard through the Force, felt their terror at the betrayal of their own before the end. The last of the enemy TIE fighters scattered in panic, especially as more TIEs from the newly arrived six ships began to pour out and move in towards their location. From here, Vader could feel the intense determination of the TIE pilots who recognized that what they were doing was treason against their Emperor…

But not their Empire. To them, Vader _was_ their Empire.

"We are yours to command, Lord Vader."

Vader sat there in stunned silence, watching as the last of the enemy TIEs began to be shot down one by one, until there were none left. He'd known there were many in the Empire who thought he had more power and control than Sidious did, but he'd never imagined they'd actually _defect_ to his side, should the time come. Sure, some few under his direct command had already made that choice, but not _six_ entire cruisers. Darth Vader didn't exactly inspire confidence and leadership in his men.

But, Anakin Skywalker did.

"Piett." Vader commanded.

"Yes, My Lord?" Piett asked, his voice just barely controlling the awe he too must have been feeling.

"Send the ships the coordinates to our rendezvous point. Admiral Kon, you will wait there with your fleet until I join you, upon which time I will impart further orders." He hesitated. "Are….others coming?"

He expected a no, but again, the Admiral surprised him. "Many others will likely join us, My Lord. We only arrived because the Emperor instructed us to destroy you and your ship. We decided to help you instead. We've sent messengers out to our other contacts, but we're still awaiting responses."

From behind him, he heard Padme whisper, "Holy Stars…" in utter disbelief. Not that he blamed her.

Holy Stars was right.

"Good." His voice was tight. "Make note of those who intend on joining, but do _not_ give away the rendezvous point just yet. I'd like my own spies to make sure they aren't working for the Emperor."

"Yes, My Lord." Admiral Kon replied, and Vader cut the transmission.

For a moment, they sat there in stunned silence. "You've...Do you, uh, know what this means, Ani?" Padme whispered, her tone incredulous.

Vader nodded, too stunned to speak. He'd unwittingly staged a mutiny within the ranks of the Imperial Navy. If the Admiral was indeed correct, it was possible a sizable number of troops would pledge their loyalty to Lord Vader.

He'd suddenly become a leader in his very own Rebellion. The irony wasn't lost on him.

Already, the other TIEs were beginning to turn back for the _Executor_ or their other respective cruisers. Numbly, Vader followed suit.

"I think we have a lot to talk about." Padme said softly. "Not just...us...but…._this._"

Vader gulped, his vision going dangerously blurry again as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. "You're right" he said just as softly, as he guided the ship towards the hangar bay. Suddenly, everything seemed like too much. He never thought he'd say that. He was….he _had_ been...a Sith Lord. Sith Lords didn't get overwhelmed. Yet, here he was, his vision beginning to darken as pain shot through his body in ever increasing waves of agony. The...sudden developments with his own little Rebellion was enough to add a headache that pounded in his head, on top of the throbbing shrapnel wound in his side. "Just...after I rest a bit, Angel."

"Ani?" Padme's voice suddenly sounded far away, as if in a tunnel. It was all he could do to guide his TIE back to the hangar. "_Ani!"_

But he didn't hear her screaming. He couldn't hear anything; everything sounded garbled and distorted, his vision blurry and unfocused.

As he somehow managed to land the ship safely back in the hangar, he slumped forward over the controls before the engines had even shut down, his whole world going black…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! Another chapter down, and the state of the galaxy has just seriously changed!   
The song for this chapter is The Battle of Crait by John Williams.   
Leave some love!  
Love,   
Ladyvader23


	22. Vulnerable

When Vader awoke, head spinning and nauseous, he found himself in his personal quarters, lying on his bed on top of the covers. A medical droid was hovering over him, and at first he tensed, fingers twitching with the urge to grab it with the Force and fling it away from him and across the room. But he found the slightest movement caused a spasm of pain to surge through him, inadvertently reminding him of his original crash in the hangar bay and the resultant explosion, which lead to the piercing shrapnel wound now throbbing in his side, thus warranting the need for the medical droid in the first place, no matter how annoyed it made him.

As consciousness further encroached, the blackness in his vision receding with it, he realized that he was shirtless, maskless, and armorless, wearing nothing but his black pants and boots, his long, unruly blonde curls splayed across his pillow. It was such a vulnerable position to be in, and being vulnerable was something Vader detested. So, gritting his teeth against the next wave of radiating pain, he forced himself to lift his head up to peer around him, eyes scanning his bedchamber for anyone other than the medical droid, a droid he would later wipe the memories from, by the way.

Nothing. Empty. Quiet.

Good.

But his normally meticulously clean quarters were strewn about with bloody rags, medical supplies, and the top half of his suit having been tossed into a corner, forgotten. Plus, the door to his refresher was open, the light on, and he could hear the soft sound of water running from the faucet. So, not entirely quiet. _Kriff._

Apprehensive at just who might be in his quarters at that moment, he reached out with the Force to find out who was in there...a sluggish task, one normally as easy as breathing, but with painkillers and antibiotics now in his system, it didn't come quite as easily as he would have liked; however, he breathed an instant sigh of relief when he felt the distinct soothing presence of his wife in there, working on…something. What exactly, he wasn't sure. At least he didn't register the presence of anyone else in the room. That would be entirely unwanted and unsuitable, given his present state.

But even as he calmed, he immediately tensed up again, memories flooding back into his muddled brain.

The failed assassination attempt on Sidious.

Padme and _Obi-Wan,_ here on his ship, yet not attempting to kill him.

Padme fighting with him in the battle, calling him by his birth name.

An attack on the Executor...and the defection of who knew how many Imperial ships to his side, thereby creating yet _another_ major player - and conflict - in the Civil War presently raging across the galaxy.

And he wasn't even sure what the hell he was supposed to _do_ now with any of it. This hadn't been his plan at all, and all of his imaginings of what would happen should he fail in killing the Emperor hadn't resulted in _this. _Nope. _Not even close,_ he snorted to himself.

He was a Sith Lord, and yet not. Commander in Chief, and yet not. Rebel Jedi, and yet not.

Husband and father, and yet not.

What the hell was he supposed to do _now?_

He had no kriffing idea. Reaching up, he ran one trembling hand through his hair wearily.

"You must rest, Master." The medical droid protested as Vader began sitting up, slowly, groaning as he did so. "I have only just begun bandaging…"

His jaw clenched in irritation, and his fingers twitched again, longing to reach out and destroy the insufferable droid...but at that very moment, Padme appeared in the doorway of the fresher, a stern expression already on her face. "Don't you _dare_ mess up that droid's handiwork, Anakin! It's been working for two hours to stabilize you!" She threatened, pointing her index finger at him, her other fingers clutching...Wait. What was she holding? Recognition came to him. Ahh, yes. In that curled hand was his cloak, wet, soap suds sticking to it still.

His mind blanked as he took her in with a sweep of his gaze. She was still wearing her Nightblade uniform, but the hood was down, the mask hanging at her belt next to her lightsaber. Her hair had begun to fall from her braid, and there was a smudge of oil grease across her cheekbone, just below her right eye. Beneath those brown eyes, however, dark circles could be seen, a pronounced testament to her exhaustion, even if the rest of her body language conveyed nothing but stern command.

The first time in over two years his wife was back in his bedchamber again, and she was doing laundry of all things. _Laundry._

Despite the circumstances, he couldn't help smirking, amused at the situation.

"Angel," his tone was wry, despite his voice croaking, and he continued to ignore the droid's protestations, "You could have just shoved that down the laundry chute, y'know." Watching her eyes narrow at him, he felt his lips twitching as he fought to keep the smile from his face.

She sniffed, arching one brow and lifted her chin defiantly, bringing the cloak closer to her. "Well, I had to do _something_ while you were out of it. I wasn't going to just sit here and twiddle my thumbs, hoping you wouldn't _die_ on me because of a stupid piece of metal stuck in your side."

He snorted. "Sith Lords don't die because of shrapnel."

She tilted her head to the side, raising both eyebrows, her look inquisitorial. "Is that what you are?"

His answer was automatic, given simply from habit. "Yes." Then he noticeably paused, his uncertainty hanging between them in the air. _I don't know what I am anymore. _The words were on the tip of his tongue, and yet...he couldn't find the strength to say them. So instead, ignoring the droid's protests, he finished sitting up, staring at his wife.

Padme stared right back, then sighed, tossing the sopping wet cloak on top of the rest of his ruined suit. "You may go now, droid. Thank you for your assistance."

The droid made what was the equivalent of an irritated grumble before turning and rolling from his quarters, the door swishing silently shut behind it.

Leaving him alone with his wife. For reasons he didn't wish to dwell on, this made him entirely too uncomfortable.

Oh, how he used to long for such time with her.

Shaking his head ruefully, he acknowledged the irony of it all.

Now...Well, now he didn't begin to know what to do with the situation at hand. First, he'd expected to kill Sidious...or die trying. And if everything had gone to plan, he would have returned and...let her go. He'd even prepared a recorded message for his children, not as Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, Imperial Commander, and right hand of the Emperor, but...as their father. A heartfelt message from him for them to have and keep for themselves when he'd disappeared off into the unknown regions of the galaxy, never to be seen or heard from again.

He thought it would have been the hardest thing he'd ever have to do, letting her go, letting his _family _go. But now, staring at her, their incredibly complex, numerous issues stretching between them like an uncrossable chasm, he realized that that had been the plan of a coward.

No. It would be much more difficult to _stay_. It would be virtually impossible, he admitted to himself, to even begin working through all of those screw ups...the majority of them being of his own making.

But he had never been a quitter before, and damn it, he wasn't about to start now!

"I doubt Threepio would have left so quietly." He smirked, his attempt at humor both awkward...and appreciated considering the matching smirk that graced his wife's lips.

Padme snorted. "You can say that again."

"Whatever happened to the droids?" He asked, as the thought of Artoo and Threepio, their ever faithful companions, suddenly crossed his mind.

She shrugged, as she casually leaned one shoulder against the fresher door jam. "With a friend."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to be top secret?" Then the thought of Threepio knowing any secrets of the Rebellion made him snort. "Scratch that."

"I was about to say..." Padme replied dryly, but he was gratified to see her brown eyes twinkling mischievously.

Another awkward silence ensued. Finally, Vader let out a breath. "I'm sure you have questions."

"Understatement."

He warred with the internal instinct Sidious had drilled into him to answer to no one. No one questioned him, and if they did, they died. Quickly. But...that wasn't him. Not anymore. No. Whatever was left of him, it wasn't that. "I'll...answer them as best I can."

Padme slowly nodded her head in silent acknowledgement and then she pushed away from the door, heading over to the chair next to his console. For an irrational moment, he worried that the monitors were on, showing the damning footage of his surveillance of her, her home, and their children...but he let out a silent breath, relieved he'd secured the station before he'd left on his doomed mission to assassinate Sidious. The screens were black now as she sat in his plush office chair and twirled the seat to face him, her posture as regal as he'd ever seen her. "You'll answer them? Truthfully?" She asked, skeptically.

Her skepticism hurt. Not that he could blame her, of course, but that still didn't stop the shaft of pain that lanced through him at just how deep the wedge was between them.

He hesitated, again warring with his instincts. It was not lost on him how it had once been so easy to confide in her. At the start of their relationship, he'd been so open and honest with Padme as to tell her of his horrific slaughter of the Tuskan Raiders who had murdered his mother on Tatooine. But, neither could he deny that, by the time she'd become pregnant...he'd already begun to grow less and less trusting of anyone else - even his Angel, all thanks to Sidious and his subtle manipulations. Though, truthfully, he hadn't recognized it at the time. Perhaps, in retrospect, he'd become a monster long before he'd taken up the mantle of Darth Vader, again just as Sidious had intended. "Yes."

"I'll know if you're lying." She warned him sternly, her voice an echo of her former royal rank. "And if you are…"

She stared him down. She didn't need to finish the threat. He understood her meaning, loud and clear. It would put them right back where they started. As enemies.

This time _permanently_.

Nodding, he slowly exhaled. Vulnerable. He was _so damn _vulnerable. "What do you want to know first?"

Silence met his question, as she considered him, and as she did, her expression turned to that familiar, regal mask, the one that Nubian queens had perfected over millennia. If he wanted, he could sense her feelings using the Force, but...no. He wouldn't pry this one time. Too much was at stake, and they both knew it.

"You've lost weight." Her observation, blunt and to the point, was expressed coolly

He quirked a brow, once more amused. "That's not a question." Her expression didn't flicker as she waited for his response, and he sighed, remembering just how determined and stubborn his wife could be, as he ran his mechanical hand through his hair. "It's not exactly easy being the Right Hand of the Emperor, second in command to an entire galaxy. I don't always remember - or have time - to stop and eat." It was true, and yet he was sure that he'd lost more weight than he should have given the food he did eat. Perhaps it was a side effect of being immersed in the Dark Side. Or, perhaps, he wasn't eating as much as he thought. Either way, Sidious' insistence on him wearing the damned suit made eating anywhere else but in his private quarters virtually impossible. Padme used to always force him to stop to eat and rest, back before the fall of the Republic. Maybe he'd taken that for granted.

It certainly wouldn't be the only thing he'd taken for granted in their marriage.

But, surprisingly, she didn't push. Instead, she changed topics, momentarily throwing him off kilter. "Why did you become Sandstorm?"

He wasn't surprised she knew now. He figured she'd know the moment he sent that message. His Angel was smart. Smarter than smart. He doubted he could have kept up the ruse much longer anyway. "The honest answer? I was hoping it would win you back, or at least get you to listen to me and sway you to my way of thinking." Her eyes narrowed, her lips thinning, and he shrugged. "You wanted honesty, Angel, and I'm giving it to you. But…" He frowned, looking down at the floor, thinking of their missions together. The people he'd attempted to save...and failed to do so. "Going on those missions with you...it...I remembered what it was like. As a Jedi. Saving lives, instead of leading death squadrons. Helping people, instead of harming...no, terrorizing them.

"The slaves...I didn't know we were transporting slaves." He swallowed, hard. "When we found those slaves and I realized what Sidious had sanctioned behind my back, it was a turning point for me. I...I couldn't help but think…" He trailed off. Even now, he couldn't admit that dark part of his past. "And then seeing Sola, Darred, and the girls and realizing what _they_ went through, I just…" he shook his head, "You're right. I realized it that day. I confronted Sidious over it. It didn't go well, and by the end of it...I couldn't even look at myself. At what I've...turned into." The words were harder to say than he knew. Harder to tell them to the woman he loved and treasured most of all...the woman who had no reason to listen to his excuses. If he was her, he'd have snapped his neck not long into this conversation.

But Padme listened, her expression unyielding, unbreaking, unchanging.

"So, I tried to get back at Sidious. I laid that trap for the Empire perfectly at Ryloth. Except I now think he was onto me even then. He sent those reinforcements without telling me, and bombarded...all those people...innocent people…" He shook his head. "So I turned against him. To start with, Sandstorm was a means to an end. Now? I'm not sure what he is anymore."

If Padme wanted to comment on it, she didn't. She was fully in Queen-mode, something that had always terrified him. It was almost as though she were a totally different person, an untouchable being, an unyielding monolith of power and control. Internally, he admitted they had that trait in common. It would have been arousing had it not been directed fully at him. "What happened when you went to kill the Emperor?"

Well, at least this one wasn't personal. He almost sighed with relief. Almost. "Regrettably, my movements weren't as concealed as it would seem. He saw the betrayal coming. Honestly, maybe he's always expected me to rise up against him. It's the way of the Sith. Betrayal. He betrayed and destroyed _his_ Master, after all. I doubt he was all that surprised that eventually I would attempt the same. Anyway, he knows he couldn't defeat me in physical combat, so he led me to believe he was on his flagship and set a trap for me. Blew up the whole damn ship and almost me with it." He motioned to the wound at his side, now cleansed, stitched, and bacta-patched.

There. A slight tightening of her lips. Some sign of emotion. He felt hope flare within him at that. Maybe her long held stance against him was beginning to soften. "You've gained a considerable advantage though, one I doubt Sidious foresaw."

"Let's hope so." Vader winced. "_I_ definitely didn't. I'll need to take stock of everything before I make any decisions."

She nodded tersely and fell into silence, contemplating what he'd thus far revealed. He had a feeling no more easy questions were coming his way. "Why didn't you take us that night?"

_Figures_ _she'd_ _bring_ _that_ _up_. Force, sometimes it was so _draining_ to be right.

He didn't need to ask what she meant. The night he'd invaded her home and terrified their children. "The plan was to do so."

"Obviously."

"And I would have." He debated on just how much to tell her, but he figured he was already revealing enough. No need to reveal that he was keeping tabs on their family at the console she sat next to. No. That'd just piss her off. And, while things between them were still _tense_...at least they were communicating without her trying to kill him. Progress. Best to not jeopardize that, and he _had_ agreed to be honest. "_But_...You hated me. The twins were petrified with fear of me, and Jobal was terrified. In that moment, I...I realized that if I'd taken all of you then, forced you to come with me at blaster point, I may have had you with me physically, but I still would have lost all of you emotionally. You would forever hate me, maybe succeed in killing me…"

"Maybe?" She echoed incredulously.

He ignored that. "But the kids...Luke and Leia...I didn't want them to only know me as some monster to fear and hate."

"Isn't that what the Sith strive for?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Yes. But I think I've established that I don't really know what to do with that ideology anymore." He said dryly. Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair again before dropping them back to the bed, and the look he gave her was sad, poignant. "All I have _ever_ wanted with you, Angel, is a family. You, me, and our children, living happily together. At home, on Naboo. Had I taken all of you that night...I don't think I would have gotten that."

"You're right about that." She replied bitterly. Then, "Why? _Why_ did you do it?"

Again, he didn't need to ask to know what she meant. "You know why."

"I want to hear you say it."

He clenched his teeth, annoyance rising quickly within him; however, he immediately quenched it. She deserved that much. It was only fair. Besides, something told him if they had any chance at reconciling, of saving their marriage and family, she needed to _really _understand this. True, he'd tried to tell her that night on Mustafar, but everything had been so tense, so in the moment. He'd been blind to what _she'd_ been trying to tell him, so hyper-focused was he on what he had to do to save her, even though it killed him inside, but once he'd caught sight of Obi-Wan, events had instantly spiraled out of control, making comprehension impossible for _any_ of them.

"I only wanted to save you, Angel." His voice was raw, broken...even to his own ears, and he had to fight to hold back the tears that suddenly flooded his eyes. "I'd already failed my mother. I left her to rot in slavery to sell my soul to the Jedi...and she died. Because of _me. _The Force warned me, repeatedly, that she was in danger, and though I knew I shouldn't ignore it, I listened to Obi-Wan when he told me that my dreams about my mother would simply pass in time and not to put any real stock in them, and in trying to be a good _Jedi_ and do what my _master_ said to do, I ignored them, and thus, I didn't go to Tatooine until it was too late. I couldn't do that again. I wasn't _strong _enough for my mother."

He paused for a moment, biting his lower lip as he gathered his thoughts. "When you told me you were pregnant, I was so, _so _happy, Angel. Then, I dreamed of you dying in childbirth. I was desperate to save you from dying. I'd lost my mother. I couldn't lose you, too. So, not trusting Obi-Wan with the truth about my dreams and our marriage, I'd gone to Master Yoda for help instead. I told him of my dreams, but not _who_ or _what _specifically they were about, other than it was someone very close to me who died. He gave me some asinine bullshit about letting you go and being _happy_ about your death and passing on into the Force." His hands clenched angrily at this sides. "The only person who listened, who offered me _any_ help, was Palpatine. He told me that he could teach me how to save you from dying through the Dark Side, _if_ I pledged my allegiance to him. So, I accepted the mantle of Sith apprentice in order to save you. Or, so I believed. So, yes, even after I found out what he was, even though I knew it was wrong, I made my choice. I hated it, but it was my choice, and to save you, I stuck to it even after I knew I'd crossed the line."

A long, heavy silence enveloped the room with his quiet admission. The words, though needing to be said, left a bitter taste in his mouth once spoken, and he drew in a shuddering breath to try and calm himself.

"And by doing so you destroyed everything." Now that mask was beginning to crack, but only barely. There was a fire in her eyes that burned his very soul. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere but in that room right then. "Everything I worked my entire life for. Everything I believed in, sacrificed for, fought for. Everything, Anakin. Did you honestly think I'd be okay with that?"

"I convinced myself you would be, or eventually you would be." He admitted softly. "Once I saved you and our baby, then I'd figure out the rest. That was the plan."

"It wasn't a very well thought out plan."

"No. It wasn't. But it's the one I chose."

She shook her head, tears swamping her own eyes. "_Younglings, _Anakin."

He closed his eyes, bowing his head in shame, once again hearing their shrieks reverberate in his head as he'd turned on them. "I know."

More silence. Then, her own voice breaking, "You attacked _me, _Anakin. _Me! _While I was _pregnant_ with our twins, our precious babies...Children _we_ created together! How could you?!"

An emotional tsunami of pain swamped him, paralyzing him, nausea welling up within him at what he'd done that horrible night. To her. To their family. To the Jedi. To the Republic.

She might as well have stabbed him repeatedly in the chest with her lightsaber, the import of her words impaling him with their irrefutable truth. "I know. It haunts me to this day. I think it always will. It gives me nightmares. Every night. I hate myself for it. For _all_ of it. I thought...I thought I had killed you. Sidious told me...He told me I had killed you."

"You nearly did."

He flinched. "And because of that, because I believed you and our child were gone forever, dead by my own hand, I felt I had nothing left to lose anymore, and so, I threw my entire being into this." He motioned to the ship around them with his mechanical hand. "I gave up everything for you...and when you died...or I thought you had...I attempted to leave. I attacked Sidious. Accused him of lying to me. He convinced me that turning back to the Light would only make my sacrifice in vain. So, believing him, I stayed, and I became what I once hated. What I _still_ hate. And nothing I can do or say will ever make that right, or change it. I know that. But I'm sorry, Angel, so very sorry anyway."

She shook her head. "You're right. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make it right." It was what he knew she'd say, but he accepted it anyway. "I'm sure you have questions yourself."

So she was done asking then. "Only two." She waited, and he carefully asked his first one. "How is it that you're alive? I was there. I saw your funeral with my own eyes."

Padme sighed. Honesty, to be productive, had to work both ways. "Obi-Wan immediately rushed me to a secret medical facility in the Outer Rim. The doctors there were quite advanced. Your attack triggered my labor. They helped me through the twins' birth. I almost gave up. I very nearly succumbed to the dual trauma of my injuries plus labor...but I decided to fight. My babies needed me." She paused, licked her lips, glancing at the floor for a moment, before shrugging one shoulder and continuing her explanation. "It was a close call, I'm not going to lie to you. The damage you wrought to my throat was extensive, but I clearly made it through. Afterwards, we knew we had to do _something _to protect me and the twins, or you'd never stop looking for me. For us. So, with some pretty substantial help from the Alliance, I faked my own death. The twins were secretly taken to some friends while I took medication that in every way made me appear dead...even to Force users." She shuddered, a look of profound distaste sweeping her features. "It truly did feel like death, too. One moment I was awake, the next...nothing. Even after I awoke, it was a struggle not to spend all of my time sleeping it off. It took _days_ for it to fully wear off. I was reunited with the twins after my funeral, and into hiding with Obi-Wan we went."

A wave of anger rushed over him...but disappeared. He couldn't blame her for doing what she did. She was trying to protect their children, children who were _extremely_ strong in the Force. He doubted it was just _him_ she was protecting them from.

"And your second question?" She pressed when he didn't say anything after a while.

He took a deep breath before voicing the one uncertainty that could potentially reignite their tempers. "Did you deliberately bring Obi-Wan to kill me that night on Mustafar?" They stared at one another. He repeated, voice breaking, "Did you betray me?"

Her eyes, like her expression, softened. "No. I did not." She said softly. "I came to help you, Ani. I came to run away with you. My offer that night was genuine. When I left Coruscant, I had _no_ _idea_ that Obi-Wan had stowed away on my ship with the intent to confront and kill you. His appearance at the top of the ramp was as much a shock to me as it was to you."

The sincerity of her words rang out through the Force.

She was telling the truth.

_Kriff._

Her words shattered him. All this time...he'd thought, _believed,_ she'd betrayed him. He'd convinced himself of it in his darkest moments. It was often what had driven him to sink into the very depths of the Dark Side. And to think, it had all been an awful, cruel misunderstanding. Another wave of nausea overtook him, this time more from self recrimination and guilt than anything else. Had he listened to her, had he run away with her...how different would their lives have been? Still messed up beyond belief, certainly, but...neither of them would've turned into the killers they were now. They wouldn't be sitting here on a Super Star Destroyer, both with blood on their hands and an uncertain future ahead of them. And the twins...Instead of being a stranger to them, he'd be their father, in every way. They'd know him, and they'd be happy together. All of them. The Skywalkers.

Or...maybe not. Maybe they would have run away, and Padme would have come to hate him anyway for what he'd done to save her. Maybe she really would have died. Who the hell knew? There was no longer any point in wondering. It was all moot. What was done, was done and couldn't be erased. So, that left only one question.

"Now what?" He asked after the silence stretched too long.

"That's three questions." She pointed out, a half hearted attempt at humor. He didn't respond, and she continued seriously. "Now, you're going to let Obi-Wan out of that holding cell. You're going to take stock of the situation on your end of things. Obi-Wan and I are going to return to the Alliance and find a safe neutral meeting place and send you the coordinates. After that...I don't know. But it's all I could come up with while I was waiting for you to come to."

He grimaced at the idea of meeting with the ranking leadership of the Rebellion. He wanted to help Padme, yes, and he wanted to overthrow Sidious to be sure, and he would gladly turn over control to the Alliance leaders...but to actually _meet_ with them, face to face, and somehow overcome years of hate, distrust, suspicion, and everything they'd done to each other? "I highly doubt Mon Mothma will want to meet with me, let alone _work_ with me." He said sarcastically.

"She doesn't know you're Sandstorm."

"But Obi-Wan probably does. She'll find out, eventually. Besides, I'm tired of constantly having to hide who I am to everyone." But, there was no avoiding what was to come.

"It's some place to start." Padme pointed out.

"That it is." Slowly, he stood, wincing at the effort. "Fine. Have it your way."

"Good."

"And Padme?" She waited. "Will you let me see our children? Please? I want to get to know them."

Her eyes instantly hardened. "That's four questions."

"Sorry." He wasn't sorry.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, "We'll talk about that after the meeting with the Alliance. One step at a time, Anakin."

"I'm not…" He started to refute her name choice but trailed off. She waited, eyebrows arched, but he didn't finish.

"If not Anakin, then who the hell are you?" She inquired, calmly, her eyes piercing his very soul. He said nothing, his voice frozen in his throat, just staring back at her. He didn't know. He didn't… "I suggest you think long and hard on that. Once you can answer that question, I think you'll answer a lot of your other conflicts, too."

She was right. She usually was. He chose to nod his head silently in acknowledgement, rather than speak, knowing she'd given him much to ponder in the coming days and weeks.

As she stood to her feet, she tilted her head as she watched him, a smirk once more on her lips, "By the way, they're blue."

He frowned, his look as confused as he felt. What?

A wicked grin spread across her face, "Your eyes. They're blue. Maybe _that _will convince you of who you really are..._Anakin._"

* * *

The conversation with her husband had left her shaken, exhausted...and somewhat confused. It was a conversation she never thought she'd be able to have with him, and even if it _was_ something she'd secretly hoped for deep, deep down, nothing in her wildest imagination could have predicted what Anakin had revealed.

The echoing sound of footsteps seemed to match precisely the ruminations in her head, as she marched along determinedly, mentally processing the revelations from that conversation.

Anakin. Vader. Whoever he was. At the moment, it was as if the man walking (more like striding...How did he even _do_ that with his injuries?) beside her through the corridors, once again cloaked in mask and armor, was somewhere in-between, lost in a malmstrom of conflicting emotions and loyalties. He no longer knew _who_ he was, caught in a juxtaposition between Light and Dark. But perhaps he'd never fully understood who he was in the first place. Perhaps the man she'd married had been what he thought everyone wanted him to be...and even then, perhaps he'd been somewhere in between due to the secret of their relationship.

Perhaps that was why Sidious had been able to turn him in the first place, the core reason. Or, perhaps, as Yoda had recently opined, this was all due to the will of the Force. She didn't really know. At any rate, whoever he became at the end of all this...Padme had a feeling he would be a different person than either the man he'd once been or the man he currently was. Not the man she married. Not the man who terrorized the galaxy. Someone...else.

She didn't know yet how she felt about that. How she felt about anything in relation to the man she'd married. Though her heart broke anew at how lost her husband was right now...she couldn't fix him. Not this time. What he'd done wasn't okay. Would never be okay. But...though their paths had intertwined again, this time he needed to decide what he would do with the future. If she tried to fix it again, she knew it would only continue the toxic cycle they had probably always been in.

And now it was time for that detrimental pattern to end. Forever.

They entered the hangar bay. The ruined ship still smoldered against the far wall, the fire having been put out. Her Alliance ship stood at the ready, the loading ramp open and waiting. Obi-Wan and Piett stood in front of it, Piett looking like he was trying to hide his discomfort while Obi-Wan simply glared at Vader.

The moment the two men lay eyes on one another, Obi-Wan without his hood, and Anakin through the mask of Darth Vader, Padme could practically _feel_ the fury rippling in the air between them. The unresolved hatred. Though she and Anakin were… well, somewhere better than where they'd been before, the two former colleagues weren't anywhere _close_ to being on civil terms.

And yet, as they stopped in front of Piett and Obi-Wan, Vader merely crossed his arms over his broad chest. "I trust your time in solitary will keep you from trying to take over my ship in the future." The deep bass of Vader's voice rumbled.

"I was saving your ship, Darth." Obi-Wan pointed out, one eyebrow lifting, and though his voice sounded calm, Padme knew him well enough to know Obi-Wan was the furthest away from calm that he could possibly be.

And Anakin, no, Vader…Whatever...He knew it, too.

Piett shifted uncomfortably, but didn't side with either man. It honestly appeared that the Imperial wanted to be anywhere else in the galaxy but standing betwixt two men with a very obvious history.

"Do not touch the command deck of my ship again, or I will gladly throw you out of the airlock, Kenobi." Vader threatened, pointing one gloved index finger menacingly at the older man, and Padme didn't think it was an idle one.

Obi-Wan glanced at her briefly as though to say _I told you so, _but instead turned back to his former padawan and said, "Believe me, the absolute _last_ place I want to be is on your command deck, let alone your ship." He tilted his head, flicking his blue-green gaze between them. "I take it the plan has changed?"

Vader lifted a finger again, threatening, "It is none of your damn…"

"Yes, Master Jedi. The plan has indeed changed." Padme confirmed loudly, cutting him off, simultaneously reaching out her own gloved hand to wrap her fingers around those of her husband and pulling his arm back down to his side, earning a terrified - but respectful - glance from Piett. "But the details are not figured out fully as yet." She considered telling Obi-Wan right then that they planned on meeting with the Alliance, but she refrained, unsure of how much information Vader / Anakin wanted to give Piett. "I'll tell you about it later."

Bowing his head once in her direction, Obi-Wan didn't argue, no doubt picking up on _why_ she wasn't telling him at that moment. "So just like that? You're really going to let us walk away? Completely unscathed?" Obi-Wan demanded of the hulking black suited man before him.

Padme swore she heard her husband snarl. "Keep talking, and maybe I'll change my mind, _Jedi_."

This was going south fast, she decided. "That will be quite enough of _that_. From _both _of you. I think it's time to leave." She gave Obi-Wan a knowing look from over the top of her mask, motioning with a flick of her wrist at the ship behind him. "Shall we?"

Obi-Wan scowled. "Yes. Well, I can't say it's been nice catching up."

Vader's hand was inching towards the lightsaber at his side. Padme knew he was in no shape to fight, but she somehow doubted that would stop him. She stepped forward and unceremoniously pushed Obi-Wan towards the ship. "Move it." Grudgingly, the Jedi Master complied, but from the look he gave Vader over his shoulder, Padme doubted this would be the end of this. Unfortunately. _Boys_, she huffed to herself

No. This was merely the calm before the storm waiting to descend between these two men.

And when it did, she just hoped it wasn't _deadly. _For either of them.

While Obi-Wan headed up the ramp and then disappeared into the ship, Padme turned back to face her husband. "Lord Vader." She said, crisply, clearly, squaring her shoulders as she stared resolutely at the black behemoth of a man. Vader said nothing, the mechanical breathing the only noise between them. Damn, she hated that suit. From the grimace she'd caught on his face before he'd donned it earlier in his quarters, she knew he did, too. "When next I see you, I expect to find that you've taken your meals on time, three times a day. Everyday_. Healthy_ meals at that. _No exceptions._" She didn't say it, but her meaning was clear-he needed to put on weight. If they were going to get through this, he needed to be healthy again, in all the ways that mattered. She couldn't necessarily help him emotionally, but…

Vader tilted his head, and she could practically feel the horror vibrating from him as she turned to Piett. "I assume you're good at being discreet, Admiral. You wouldn't be alive if you weren't." She told the Imperial officer matter-of-factly.

Piett nodded sharply once. "Yes, Madam. How can I be of assistance?"

Behind her mask, she grinned, a devilish gleam alight in her eyes. "I've left you my personal comm code, Admiral. If, for any reason, Lord Vader hasn't stopped to eat at the appropriate intervals, do give me a buzz. I'll be sure to rectify the oversight _immediately_."

"_Nightblade," _Vader admonished, trying to sound stern and threatening, the text holo image of the Sith, but he was failing, which privately amused her to no end.

As his wife, she was going to use that status to her - no _their_ collective advantage. She had him in that moment, and there was _nothing_ he could do about it. She knew it. _He_ knew it.

Whether he liked it or not.

No, maybe she wasn't doing this strictly to help him. Maybe she genuinely enjoyed forcing him to show his humanity to his crew. Whatever the case, her words, her _tone_ indicated it didn't really matter.

She was determined to make sure he ate and gained back his health and vitality, whether she was in his presence or not, and she'd use any means at her disposal to see to that.

Including ordering about his subordinates.

Even if the present subordinate looked like Piett wanted the floor to swallow him whole at the moment. "Ah...um. My Lord?" He finally just questioned Vader, deciding evidently to leave it to his superior.

Vader was silent for a long, long time, the only sound that awful breathing, as he stared at his wife, watching her eyes laughing at him over the rim of her mask. Finally, he made a snorting sound and tilted his head toward her in a small sign of acquiescence. Internally, another flame of hope ignited within her at this small victory. "You heard her, Admiral. She _is_ my wife. Her word carries the same weight as my own in my fleet." The words were tight, spoken through what she knew were clenched teeth, and she was glad she had the mask on to hide her grin of triumph.

Piett nodded stiffly before turning back to face her, stating crisply, "Then it will be done, My Lady."

Grinning, feeling thousands of pounds lighter than she had when she'd arrived...or rather, than she'd felt in a long, long time, Padme pivoted on her heel, striding up the ramp to her ship, a ship that was already brought to life, ready to get out of there as fast as it could. She held up a hand in a wave, not looking back. "I'll send word," she promised over her shoulder, pausing mid stride at the top of the ramp to shoot one final look at her husband.

There was no response from him, though she could practically _feel_ his eyes rove over her form from head to toe, as the ramp closed behind her, and she was left alone with Obi-Wan, who was already lifting the ship off the hangar floor. She swallowed once, bracing one hand on the bulkhead, the other over her rapidly beating heart, damping down the flame of desire trying to spark to life in her veins at that one look they exchanged.

"Well. That could have gone better." Obi-Wan growled, as he whirled in the copilot's seat to look at her. "Do you care to share what the hell happened with him?"

Inhaling deeply, Padme shook her head and shielded her thoughts from the Jedi Master. _Not that he would even remotely understand such feelings anyway. _Padme's facade was all business as she sat in the pilot's seat to set the coordinates for the hyperdrive engines. She didn't dare take her mask off, not yet, not as a genuine smile broke out over her face for the first time in a very long time. Ignoring his sputtering, she simply waved a hand dismissively, "Just fly, Obi-Wan. We have plenty of time to discuss what happens next."

As he muttered his displeasure under his breath, Padme simply leaned back in her chair, quietly watching the lines of hyperspace as their ship hurtled forward, disappearing from view of her husband's fleet, suddenly much more confident that the tide in the galaxy had just swung back in their favor.

She couldn't help but wonder if maybe Yoda wasn't right after all and Vader _could_ be redeemed. She couldn't stop the tiny thrill that raced through her at such an idea, acknowledging that...now, she didn't even want to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, they made some important steps forward, but I wanted this to be more realistic to the situation. Some reviewers have predicted parts of what I have planned, but not the bigger picture, which pleases me. So, they haven't quite kissed and made up.
> 
> The song for this chapter is Rewrite the Stars from The Greatest Showman. I think that song does a great job showing the guy wanting this girl he's not supposed to be with, and she wants him, but there's a lot preventing that and she's just not quite ready to jump into it yet.
> 
> Love always,  
Ladyvader23


	23. Kenobi's Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long update! I've been focused on other projects. Here you go!

Releasing her breath slowly, Padme stared out at the barren salt wasteland beyond the mouth of the cave, waiting, watching, sweeping her gaze left and right across the desolate terrain. If things weren't so tense, she might have marveled more at the red crystal beneath the fine layer of white sand, which made the surface of the planet look as though it were stained red with blood. She tried not to think of it as an omen of what was to come, either in the future...or in the coming hours. But it was hard not to.

For she, Obi-Wan, Mon Mothma, and Bail Organa were waiting for their guest of honor to arrive for their clandestine meeting. The Dark Lord of the Sith himself, Darth Vader. Or...whatever was left of the Sith. Truthfully, her husband's identity crisiswas a conundrum best not delved into at this moment.

She honestly wasn't sure how he'd arrive. His reply to her comm hadn't given any details, only that he would be there. Would he come with his Star Destroyer and a squad of stormtroopers? With an Imperial shuttle and his suit? Or would he appear as simply Sandstorm? She had no idea. Whatever he decided to show up as, the one thing she already knew for a fact was that it wouldn't be a smooth, easy meeting.

For one, both her estranged husband and her close friend standing next to her absolutely loathed each other, for reasons she'd discovered from her husband's explanation only three days prior, that were literally years in the making - and far more complex than even they fully understood yet. To say Obi-Wan had objected fiercely to even meeting with the Sith in person with their two most important members of Rebel Alliance High Command, was an extreme understatement. Bail, for his part, was more than a little apprehensive, especially since he wasn't known outright to the galaxy as a rebel and still served in the Imperial Senate, but he also wasn't a fool and didn't want to miss out on such an important alliance if it was truly possible.

As for Mon Mothma_...well_. Padme knew the former Senator was highly concerned about Padme's judgement on whether Vader truly was willing to work with them - or if he could genuinely be trusted, but she also wasn't about to let an opportunity pass them by for establishing an alliance that could turn the outcome of the war against their now common foe, thus bringing it to a swift end for them all. Mothma, Padme knew, was just as politically savvy and intelligent as both she and Bail, and was a shrewd and wily opportunist as well, traits she ironically had in common with Palpatine. The obvious difference between her and the Emperor was that Mothma had a clear moral base and the best of intentions for the galaxy as a whole, whereas Palpatine had neither.

When Padme had first discussed this suggested alliance with her three compatriots upon her and Obi-Wan's return from Vader's ship, Mothma, out of the three, was the one who needed the least amount of convincing, and between her and Padme, they'd managed to sway the men to at least listen to what Vader had to say. Even if their agreeance was grudgingly given.

So, they had arranged to meet with Vader, in secret. No one else in Rebel High Command knew about this meeting. It was completely off the books, so to speak. They wouldn't risk bringing Vader anywhere near their main base, but at the same time, it would still be on their terms. Neutral territory. Just as Padme had promised her husband. So, Bail had offered the location of a base he had begun to flesh out, and he'd sent the small contingent of rebels occupying it on an off-world mission with strict orders not to return until they were expressly told to do so by either him or Mothma.

Which cleared the way for them here and now.

She felt Obi-Wan shift slightly beside her, crossing his arms over his chest. "You know, this meeting might end with he and I at each other's throats."

"Yes, I'm aware," she said. She didn't look at him. She simply continued looking out across the salt flats, still contemplating...everything from the last few days.

He let out a sigh. "You trust him." It was a statement, not a question…and one filled with both reproach and resignation.

She tilted her head, still staring at the bleak landscape, waiting. "No. Not exactly. But I've already told you...There _is _hope. Just as Yoda said. Remember?"

"He's a Sith. There's no coming back from that." Obi-Wan pressed obstinately.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Well. It...hasn't been done before."

"Hasn't been done before is not the same thing as being impossible," she reminded him dryly, just as the sound of a ship's engines reached her ears. "And, there's a first time for everything. Bear that in mind, won't you?" Ignoring his pointed look, she continued, "Just be on your best behavior...and keep the sarcasm to the bare minimum, please and thanks." She reminded him with a wry look as a ship appeared and flew overhead, coming in low and then landed smoothly in front of the mouth of the cavern.

"Fine. For your sake, I will try."

Suddenly amused, Padme glibly replied in a fairly good imitation of the Jedi Grand Master, "Do or do not. There is no try."

When Obi-Wan scowled, she snorted, shaking her head, trying not to laugh.

Narrowing his eyes, he stiffly replied, "Not funny. And you...don't _you_ get your hopes up. I was there right after his fall, you know. I don't want to see you go through _that_ again. Or worse." Obi-Wan warned as the ramp to the non-descript smugglers ship lowered and out stepped Vader...as Sandstorm.

Padme didn't reply to Obi-Wan as Vader approached, robes billowing out behind him in the wind. "Vader." Padme greeted neutrally with a nod, though she instantly felt a stirring in her belly as she watched him. _Not now_, she had to remind herself.

She couldn't see anything but his eyes, inwardly pleased to see they were blue and not yellow. Those eyes visibly darkened to deep indigo, the skin around them tightening ever so slightly, one dark blonde eyebrow lifting in appreciation, as they took her in with one slow sweep of his gaze, head to toe-in her Nightblade uniform but without the hood and mask. "Padme." He greeted her with a curt nod, though his tone was soft and..even affectionate in its cadence. By his reaction, she didn't doubt her appearance had lit a fire in his blood...if the heat suddenly pooling in her own core at his proximity was anything to go by.

The stiffening of his posture alerted her to the fact that Obi-Wan had apparently caught on to the physical and emotional undercurrents running between her and her husband...and that he highly disapproved. She couldn't help rolling her eyes.

_Ever the Jedi, attached to his Code, _she thought to herself with a sigh...and no small amount of irony.

The Jedi Master must have picked up on her last thought, for he slowly turned to her with a stoic expression, merely arching an eyebrow in response. Vader had apparently overheard her thought as well; however, _his_ response was an amused cross between a snort and a snigger.

Refusing to comment and ignoring them both, the Jedi slowly turned back to face his nemesis.

"No pomp and circumstance, I see. Shocking." Obi-Wan said sarcastically, and Vader glared. Great. Just great. First words out of his mouth, Obi-Wan blows his promise to cool the sarcasm right out of the proverbial waters. _Kriff!_ She sighed again. For a moment, Padme thought she saw her husband's eye color flicker, but...Vader pointedly ignored Obi-Wan and turned back to her.

"Who is here?" She noticed his hand resting near his lightsaber-not Vader's, she realized. Anakin's. She remembered how Sandstorm had used a hilt with leather wrapped around it. The leather was now gone, revealing the saber he'd built so long ago, the one he'd _reclaimed_ from her that night at her home.

"Us, Mon Mothma, and Bail. That's it. They didn't want to make a big deal about this if it ends up going nowhere," Padme replied.

"Good." Vader nodded. "Lead the way."

There was a formality to him. Something...not quite Anakin, and yet not quite Vader, either. But, setting that observation aside, Padme and Obi-Wan lead Vader into what passed as a conference room for the rebel base, where Mon Mothma and Bail Organa stood, tense, waiting. Mon Mothma was her regal self, though Padme knew her well enough to notice that she was more than a little frazzled by what was happening by the way she casually used the table to steady herself. Bail outright glared at Vader, his hand on the blaster attached to his hip. A clear warning, even if it would do nothing against Vader, if Vader was a true threat.

No. If Vader decided to turn on them, it would be Padme and Obi-Wan holding him off while their Rebel leaders made it to safety.

"Mothma." Vader greeted sternly. "Organa." He reached up and removed his hood, and then his mask, revealing the full visage of Anakin Skywalker turned Darth Vader.

There was a tense silence in the room following his arrival. Finally, Mothma rather pleasantly greeted, "Vader. Weclome."

Vader lifted a gloved hand, and both Bail and Obi-Wan tensed. But Vader just waved the greeting off. "Skip the pleasantries, Madam. We have urgent business to attend to. I don't know about you, but _I_ don't particularly enjoy remote barren wastelands."

No, he didn't. She remembered his hatred of Tatooine well, and Crait, while not technically a planet of sand and scorching suns, was still a barren desert for all intents and purposes. A rather salty one.

Mothma inclined her head, motioning to a chair on the opposite end of the table. "By all means," she said, but Vader didn't move, instead waiting until she and Bail sat down. It wasn't until Padme and Obi-Wan crossed over to the Rebellion's side of the table and sat down in their flanking positions on either side of their leaders that Vader finally sat, his expression stone cold and serious.

_But his eyes are still blue. Good. It's a start, _she thought with a sigh. But something about his demeanor was...bothersome.

A shiver ran up her spine. She couldn't read him like this. Back before the fall of the Republic, even when he was in Jedi mode, she could always read him. But Vader...Vader was something else entirely. Perhaps it was a requirement of the Sith, or perhaps Vader had learned a thing or two with the cut-throat Imperials he had to deal with daily. It was probably a mixture of both.

She still found it unnerving...not to mention disappointing. She bit back a frustrated sigh.

For a while, they just stared. When it became evident that Vader wouldn't begin the conversation, Mothma carefully cleared her throat and began. "You'll have to forgive us, Lord Vader. We never thought meeting with the Empire to discuss things peacefully...let alone with _you_...would ever be possible."

"You're not negotiating with the Empire at this moment." Vader snapped out, then tilted his head, his next comment sounding bemused, "Or at least, not the part that is in command...at this time."

Mothma nodded. "So we've noticed." She was right. Since Padme had left Vader's ship three days before, she'd seen nothing but reports of turmoil rocking the Empire, from one end of the galaxy to another, as a third of the entire Imperial fleet defected en masse to join with Darth Vader, while citizens on various worlds all across the galaxy had begun to stir with unrest, sensing turmoil afoot and weakness in their Imperial overlords. "What we would like to understand is _why_."

"I've given my reasons to Padme. I don't believe it's necessary to repeat them again." Vader growled, his eyes narrowing.

_Still_ _blue_, Padme reminded herself as Obi-Wan tensed from on the other side of Bail. Those eyes were still blue. Progress.

"Yes. She...expressed some of them to us. But, with all due respect, Lord Vader, we would feel more reassured if we heard it directly from you, _personally_." Mothma said carefully. Such a fine line they were walking. They had all heard the stories of those who pushed back against Vader.

But Vader looked more annoyed than anything else. "Very well. In short, I don't appreciate being used and lied to, as I have only recently discovered the Emperor has done." He leveled a glare at Obi-Wan even though Padme knew he was actually referring to Sidious directly in that moment. His issues with the Jedi's actions toward him would need to be addressed later. And more privately. "And while you may not believe it, my intentions in originally swearing my allegiance to the Emperor were always to bring peace to the galaxy; however, given that piece of rancor poodoo's actions since seizing power, I no longer believe peace will be possible under Sidious' rule, self-serving as it is."

"You think?" Obi-Wan muttered under his breath, and instantly Vader tensed, his hands clenching, but he didn't go for his lightsaber. Padme shot the Jedi a glare, and he straightened in his seat and grumbled, "Took you long enough."

Mothma lifted a hand to Obi-Wan in deterrence, shooting him a warning look, before lowering it and returning to the conversation at hand. "You have committed many grave war crimes, Lord Vader. I'm sure you're aware of this fact."

Vader tilted his head. "There are...actions I regret, yes." He replied carefully. "But, need I remind you, it _is_ war. I would dare to suggest you not count your own actions as entirely innocent either. But we have all done things that we believed to be good for the people we serve and the people we protect." Vader's eyes flicked to Padme for a brief second before settling back on Mothma.

"You murdered children." Bail's voice was strained in an attempt to sound civil, but he barely managed it. "I was there that night. I saw a youngling be cut down before my very eyes."

Again, Vader's expression remained neutral. Hard. Nothing of the vulnerable man she'd been with on the Executor was visible at that moment. "As I said, Senator...There are things I have done for the man I have served, as well as for the people I wanted to protect, that I now wish I could undo. I have already expressed profound regret for some of those actions, but I'm not going to make a show of hysterics to soothe your worries, as it won't change any of what has already transpired."

"The point is," Mothma interrupted before Bail could jump in again, "Working with you will not be easy, as I'm sure, to your point of view, working with _us_ may not be so easy for some of your people to _tolerate._ I want to be sure that before we even settle on an alliance, our joint standards are crystal clear before we proceed any further."

"I'm assuming no murdering of children is on that list." Vader said dryly.

"You would assume correctly!" Padme snapped, her tone biting as she gave him a pointed glare, her maternal instincts rushing to the fore, at the thought of her own precious younglings and what Sidious would do to them. A point not lost on her husband apparently, as Vader's jaw tightened briefly but his eyes softened, just barely, as he looked back at her.

"Believe it or not, since that fateful night, I have made every attempt I could to avoid such crimes whenever and wherever possible. Unfortunately, innocent victims will always get caught up in the crossfire of war. That has never changed since the beginning of time. It is regrettable, yes, but oftentimes, unavoidable." Vader replied. "But if it makes you feel any better, I affirm to you that I have no desire to hurt _anyone_ innocent if it can at all be avoided."

Obi-Wan snorted in disbelief and Vader's gaze zeroed in on him. "How do we know you'll keep your word?" Bail asked before anything could erupt between the two men.

"If you'd like me to sign a treaty with that in the terms, I'll certainly do so. But I have my own personal reasons and interests for keeping my word." Vader didn't outright say it, but Padme had a suspicion everyone in the room knew what he meant: Her and their family.

Well. They had to start somewhere.

"And may I assume you have some viable ideas on how best to conduct this...alliance?" Mothma asked slowly.

Vader nodded curtly, a small smile forming on his face. It was the ghost of a smile Anakin used to wear whenever he was cooking up some hair-raising crazy plan. Usually, his plans tended to work, the crazier the better. Padme wondered if Obi-Wan recognized it. "I do," he replied. "I have taken the last few days to take stock of my resources. I estimate about a third of the Imperial navy now falls under my sole command. However, I am in the process of rooting out potential spies among them, of course."

"You really think the Emperor would already have planted spies in your ranks?" Bail asked with a frown.

"I know it, Organa." Vader replied darkly. "I know the man and how he thinks better than anyone else in the galaxy. While a third of his military has defected, I know he's already working on finding a way to turn the tide back in his favor. He's as paranoid as one can get, and he has contingency plans for his backup plans in place at all times, ready to be implemented at a moment's notice. The man leaves nothing to chance, if he can prevent it. Trust me when I say, if we don't act quickly, we will not have an advantage for long."

"Agreed. So what do you propose, then?" Mothma asked again.

Vader inclined his head. "We keep our forces separate. In all appearances, we make a truce with each other, but don't appear to help one another. We let it _appear_ to the galaxy that our efforts are entirely separate. Behind the scenes, however, it would be a totally different story. We coordinate, share intelligence, combine our resources, develop joint battle plans, operate joint missions, and place our armies into proper position to sandwich the Emperor's forces in, surrounding them on all sides. Between our combined might, we have all the makings of a perfectly executed coup d'etat."

"You mean to make Sidious think that he has not one, but two rebel armies coming for him." Obi-Wan said, and Padme didn't miss the fact that Obi-Wan was now leaning back in his chair, stroking his beard, a thoughtful look on his face, sounding...well, at least a little intrigued. If not outright impressed with his former padawan's plan.

Good. More progress sorely needed.

Vader smiled coldly, his (still) blue eyes narrowed as he swept his gaze around the table, lingering on his former master for a moment. "Let him fight a battle on two fronts. This will spread his forces thin, eating up valuable time and resources while quickly tiring them out. Then, when the moment is right, we strike a fatal blow against Sidious' regime by combining our forces _officially_ and thereby bringing a decisive end to the Empire."

"And what happens then?" It was Padme who spoke this time. "Do you go back to your original offer?"

Vader regarded her for a long moment. "I will not stand in the way of the Republic being restored once more." Vader replied carefully. He made no mention of his other plan: To voluntarily leave with his men and disappear into exile in the Unknown Regions. No one brought it up. Padme decided now wasn't the time to dwell on that for reasons that she just couldn't bring herself to contemplate yet.

"How do we know you'll keep your word?" Bail asked again.

"How do I know you won't keep your word?" Vader countered. "It would be foolish of you to do so, but technically, you could turn and attack my forces as well. Besides. While I did...fail in my attempt to kill the Emperor," Padme didn't miss the bitterness in his voice at admitting his failure, "I otherwise did _exactly_ what I offered to do in the first place."

"You threw me in a holding cell." Obi-Wan pointed out.

Vader gritted his teeth. "I said you wouldn't be harmed, and you took it a step further and attempted to take over my ship."

"I was _saving_ your…"

Mothma again held up her hand, cutting Obi-Wan off. "And how do we know you won't act on similar technicalities?"

"Don't attempt to take over my ship, and I won't have to." Vader replied bitterly. Padme rolled her eyes. Anakin always did have a touchy spot for his ships. It was almost a relief to know that _that_ hadn't changed...even if it meant his ship was one of the most dangerous ships in the galaxy.

Mothma breathed out a sigh, and the room fell silent as she thought on it. "To be truthful, Lord Vader, I wouldn't normally consider this alliance at all," she said. Vader opened his mouth to likely give a very brutal opinion on that, but she continued on before he could speak. "However, your intel about this Death Star _was _correct and reliable. We were able to destroy it because of you."

Vader snorted, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I bet the Emperor is beyond furious about that. All the more reason we need to begin acting now before he can fully regroup from such a setback."

Mothma nodded. "Again, I agree. What do you want from all of this?" She finally asked. "What do _you_ get out of cooperating with us in this endeavor?"

Vader was silent for a long time, his expression betraying nothing. Padme waited on baited breath. She expected him to say something along the lines of being with her and the kids again, but when he finally spoke, it wasn't that at all, which shocked her. "Fair treatment, for myself and all of those who chose to serve under me," he finally said.

"We can't guarantee that," Bail began stubbornly, shaking his head. "The war crimes…"

"I said _fair_ treatment," Vader interrupted with a frown, annoyed. "I didn't say no trial _if _necessary. But if there is to be one, let it be fair, weighing _all_ the evidence without bias. Not based solely on prejudice or personal opinions on _either_ side."

Mothma looked at Padme, then at Bail, and finally at Obi-Wan. None of them had any objections to that. "I think that is an honorable request, Lord Vader," Mothma finally replied with a slight smile. She studied Vader for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Alright. We have an accord. So. With that settled, where do we begin?"

* * *

Amazingly, it was only two more hours of debating back and forth. He was shocked...and mildly amused. _Must be a new record for me. In a meeting this long, and I've not strangled anyone. Wonder if that'd win me some brownie points. _He smirked to himself. Somehow, he doubted it. Vader was...unused to being so patient. He normally only tolerated long meetings when the room was full of the Emperor's 'untouchables,' as he liked to call them. Now, he was very much aware that every comment from him, every look he gave, every gesture he made was being hyper-overanalyzed by the Rebels before him, looking for any sign of lying, insincerity, or duplicity on his part. If Padme wasn't there, he wouldn't have given a damn what they thought of him or his suggestions one way or the other, but she _was_ there, so he sucked it up and at least attempted to be civil with the remaining three people sitting before him.

It was only marginally successful. But by the end of the meeting, no one had once reached for their throats as he choked the life out of them. Quite an accomplishment, if he did say so himself. He knew Padme, at least, was genuinely pleased by this. He could tell by the looks she was giving him throughout the back and forth discussion. If his wife was happy with him, then he was happy. She and their family were still his highest priority, even above toppling that putrid Sith spawn calling himself Emperor.

In the end, their first course of action was determined with two steps: First, they needed to ensure they had regular supplies being sent to them, both the Rebels _and _Vader's fleet, since he was now persona non grata #1 with Sidious and a highly wanted man by the Empire. Obviously, this meant he could no longer use the normal Imperial channels to resupply his ships, and even the Imperial worlds that sided with him were still under the thumb of Sidious and would be watched closely for _any _sign of his fleet appearing in orbit nearby. Nope. He couldn't rely on them for supplies. They'd need to look elsewhere for assistance through more_...discreet_ suppliers.

Whether the Alliance liked it or not, this meant underhanded dealings through backdoor, off the books arrangements with criminal organizations. He would _never_ deal with the Hutts, and Black Sun and their leader Prince Xizor of the Falleen were out due to his constant brown-nosing of the Emperor, but...there _was_ Crimson Dawn. They were especially known to have plenty of coaxium, and just a small amount of that would power both the Rebellion and Vader's fleet for the entirety of the war.

And Crimson Dawn had _no_ love for either the Emperor or his Empire.

Yeah...CD could work, and work well.

But Vader was well aware of certain challenges to pursuing a deal with them. Especially since their newest leader, the young Dryden Vos, was directly connected to a certain ex-Sith apprentice that Obi-Wan was rather familiar with.

And apparently, part of that challenge was Mothma's next thought: That it would be a good idea to pair Vader and Obi-Wan together on the mission to establish connections with Vos and CD.

_Kriffing hells!_

"Absolutely not," Vader snarled, shaking his head briskly, even as Obi-Wan failed to conceal a wince or wrinkling his nose in distaste. At least the two of them agreed on _this._

"I want to ensure that this deal with Vos and Crimson Dawn doesn't fail. It's vital to our success. Having two Jed...ah, that is, two strong Force sensitives on the mission would be ideal. Especially given your success rate as a team in years past and the combined skill set you each bring to such an endeavor. Besides, Padme needs a rest before undertaking her next mission." Mothma pointed out firmly.

Vader opened his mouth to argue further, but he hadn't missed the dark circles under his wife's eyes. He also hadn't failed to notice that she had yet to return to her hidden home on Gandle Ott to be with their family since practically before Ryloth, and their children needed her at home, at least for a little while. No. As much as he hated, no loathed, the idea of working with Obi-Wan at all, he also wasn't selfish enough to force his exhausted wife to dive headfirst into that hive of scum and villainy. More to the point, he loved his wife dearly, and he just didn't want her anywhere near that prick, Vos. The man was a ruthless merciless cutthroat, true, but he also had a voracious and insatiable lust for beautiful women. Vader knew Vos would take one look at Padme, even dressed as Nightblade, and the scumbag would insist on making his wife part of the deal. He could just imagine it...Padme in exchange for coaxium and all other supplies they needed. No kriffing way was he going to allow that to happen.

So, instead he said, "Then I should go alone. Dryden doesn't work for himself, despite what outward appearances may seem. He answers to someone higher up the chain."

"And _who_ does he work for?" Bail demanded. "Clearly, you know a lot more about him than _we_ do."

Vader didn't bother to explain why...or let them know the depth of his own personal spy network he had deployed across the galaxy. He made it a priority to keep an eye on _all_ the various crime syndicates across the galaxy and know as much about them as possible…should just such a need as _this_ one arise. "He works for Maul."

"_Maul?" _Obi-Wan breathed, his eyes widening in shock. "As in _Darth Maul?" _Padme, too, looked shocked at this revelation.

"Former Darth. Just Maul now. He's no longer affiliated with Sidious, no, but he's still alive and kicking...sort of," Vader replied. He'd made it a point to ignore the being that was little more than an annoying cyborg insect who refused to die, like he _should_ have after he'd killed Qui-Gon and then Kenobi sliced him in half, essentially. "So for obvious reasons, Kenobi would not be a good fit."

"He could go under cover." Padme suggested pragmatically. "Unless you think Maul would be nearby to sense it…"

Vader hesitated. He could lie. He _should_ lie. He wanted nothing to do with Kenobi beyond what he was forced to put up with to keep his wife happy. But… "He wouldn't be anywhere nearby, no. He rules CD from a distance, behind the scenes. It's a significant risk though. If Dryden Vos figures out who Kenobi really is, it won't be long before Maul knows, and the jig would be up. Then, we'd be dealing with both a psycho despotic Master of the Sith and a cyborg deranged wannabe. I don't need to tell you that that would _not_ be good."

Mothma paused, considering. "As you stated earlier, this is war. As in any conflict, there are risks that must be taken, Lord Vader. I would prefer to do so together, rather than separately."

A delicate way to imply she didn't yet trust him to complete the mission on his own. Fine. He'd ignore Kenobi, and if the Jedi got himself into trouble, then so be it. He had no qualms about _not _repeating what happened on Cato Neimoidia.

The second step they needed to begin with was, according to Mothma, breaking out an important Alliance operative: Someone named Fulcrum. Vader had never heard of them, but Mothma insisted they were a vital asset to the Rebellion's efforts, and therefore the entire war effort. Apparently, they'd been kidnapped by Jabba the Hutt and was being held prisoner on Tatooine. As far as Vader was concerned, if they were captured by the Hutts, then perhaps they weren't really necessary to the war effort after all, but he was quickly out voted by every Rebel in the room, including his wife.

Resignation washed over him, and he had to stifle his annoyance.

Besides, he knew a lost argument when he was in one. After all, he'd rarely prevailed against his wife whenever _they'd_ argued_. And she was certainly a master wordsmith. _He also knew when to compromise. Evidently, this was it. They would assist him in securing supplies for them all, and he'd assist them in breaking out this Fulcrum from Jabba's clutches.

"I will accompany you on that mission," Padme insisted, giving Mothma a look that just _dared_ her to challenge her decision. "I'll prepare for that while you and Obi-Wan are dealing with Crimson Dawn."

He opened his mouth to remind her that she needed to rest, but he knew how it would be received. So, he shut it, and the meeting adjourned.

Mothma and Organa were the first to leave. Likely for protection. If he attempted to kill them, then he supposed it was Padme's and Kenobi's job to stop him. Not that they could, but he knew better than to point that out. So, he said nothing, not even goodbye, as the two senators left.

Leaving him alone with Kenobi and Padme.

He gritted his teeth. He would have preferred to be alone with his just wife. Had they been alone, he would have shoved the conference table aside and…

He stopped that thought cold. They had made progress in their relationship, yes, but she'd made it perfectly clear she had yet to forgive him for many of his prior actions. Rightfully so, he had to admit. She probably wouldn't have appreciated his redecoration of their pathetic rebel outpost. Or his amorous intentions in doing so. At least not yet.

But then there was Kenobi. The Jedi. His nemesis. His former Master.

His former brother.

They stared at one another across the table. Glared menacingly was a more apt description. His fingers itched to snatch the lightsaber off his belt and…

"I assume you won't go to both of those missions as Vader," Kenobi grumbled, his eyebrows arching questioningly.

"Of course not." Did Kenobi still think him an inexperienced _idiot_, not grown up enough to think of details such as this?

He shook his head in exasperation. _Honestly. _The man, for all his experience, intelligence and vaunted negotiation skills, could be as obtuse as they come at times.

Like now.

It would be much better to let Sidious think that he had multiple Force sensitives coming for him than just one. Sidious had yet to know Sandstorm and Vader were one and the same. He would deal with Crimson Dawn as Vader with a disguised Kenobi, and he'd rescue Fulcrum as Sandstorm with his wife. No doubt Sidious would find a way to spin fighting a war on two fronts to his advantage, especially with the Empire essentially controlling all major media outlets in the holonetwork, but it was far less likely if he was distracted by the paranoia of multiple Jedi and a former apprentice coming for his seat of power.

Kenobi nodded, a stupid thoughtful look on his stupid Jedi face, and Vader's hand twitched once more toward his lightsaber…

And he forced himself to ignore Kenobi and look to his wife. Focus on her. Pretend Kenobi didn't even exist. He was nothing but a worm, a worm he would have to deal with until his wife realized Kenobi had done nothing but drive them apart.

For it was Kenobi, after all, who had framed Padme for betraying him. Kenobi who had snuck aboard her ship that night on Mustafar. Kenobi who had attacked him. Kenobi who may have killed him, had they not been forcefully separated in the middle of the battle.

Kenobi who kidnapped his wife. His children.

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths before he directed his next question at Padme. "When we last spoke, I asked you about my children. You said to wait for that conversation until after this meeting."

Padme paused, then nodded slowly, warily. "To be honest, I'm not sure how that will…"

"Hold on," Kenobi interrupted, aghast. "How and why are you even entertaining letting a Sith go anywhere near the twins?!"

Padme paled, even as Vader felt a wave of white hot fury overtake him. This time, his hand went to his lightsaber even as he stood...but he did not light it. Still, Kenobi was also on his feet, hand on his own lightsaber. Unlike Vader, however, Kenobi ignited his saber, filling the room with a dull blue light, the weapon humming loudly in the silence. Padme groaned, reaching up to rub her temples as though they were giving her a headache. "Can't we have _one_ conversation without lightsabers being drawn?! I mean, seriously?" She grumbled with a shake of her head. She continued to rub at her temples. Vader knew she only did that when she had a severe headache. Given the present circumstances, he figured it must be one hell of a headache by this point. He felt bad about that, but he knew she wouldn't respond well to any offers of help from him at the moment. So...

Vader ignored her. His entire focus was now on Kenobi...on keeping himself from murdering the Jedi Master. That would not bode well in getting him his wife and children back for sure. Still, there was nothing wrong in correcting the man's high and mighty assumptions - or in setting some firm boundaries for the Jedi, now that he was at least _closer _to being in the picture with his family. "Stay out of this, Kenobi. Last I checked, I married Padme in secret, not _you_."

"Thank the Force for that." Kenobi remarked dryly. Such sarcasm. He was starting to understand why Grievous was rumored to have a serious anger issue when it came to his old master.

"Shut it, Jedi! What my wife and I decide to do about our children that wecreated together, is none of you damn business!"

"And what, may I ask, will you do if you're allowed anywhere near the twins, hmm? Kidnap them? Take them from their mother and turn them into Sith perhaps?"

Oh, the Jedi was walking a thin line. No, scratch that. He'd crossed it. Vader fingered the trigger of his saber, mentally picturing all the ways he'd _love _to massacre the older Jedi. "No. Kidnapping children isn't the way of the Sith. That's a _Jedi_ trait."

"Can't we get along? Or at least talk this out civilly?" Padme tried. The men ignored her.

"_Kidnapping?!"_ Kenobi echoed incredulously as his head reared back at Vader's comment, shock clearly written all over his face. "By the Force, has Sidious twisted and warped your mind so much that you forget…?"

Well. Can't see his own nose apparently. Time to get blunt and lay it all out there for the Jedi.

Vader cut him off. "Tell me something, Kenobi, have you _ever_ inferred that my children should be taken from my wife's home, never to be seen by her again, to be raised and trained by you or Yoda by the Jedi Code?" There was absolute silence, but the truth was plainly written on Obi-Wan's face. Even Padme's expression had paled and tightened in displeasure, confirming what he had already suspected. "Well, let me tell you something right now, Jedi...You will _not _take them!" He shouted, pointing one gloved finger at his nemesis for emphasis. Without meaning to do it, Vader emitted a surge of the Force, and the conference table suddenly flipped up and over to the side of the room, leaving nothing but a few open feet of space between them.

Though Padme was well out of the way, she still jumped. "See that? _This_ is why we can't have nice things, dammit!" She hissed, glaring at him. "Just calm down, for kriff's sake!"

Again, he ignored her, his focus solely on his former master.

"And what would _you_ do with them?! Train them to be Sith Lords bent on evil, to become merciless killing machines terrorizing the galaxy?! Is _that_ what you want for those precious children, Vader?!" Kenobi demanded, his voice rising with equal fervor.

For a moment, he was stunned, Kenobi's inference that he only had designs of _power_ in mind for his children, left him speechless. And, hurt...To know that everyone, even his own wife, seemed to believe that he couldn't possibly _love_ his own offspring or that he only wanted what was best for them. He felt like he'd been gutted.

Damn, _that _hurt. Really hurt.

Drawing in a steadying breath, he pushed the hurt aside. "No. That was _never_ my intention! From the moment Padme told me she was pregnant, all I wanted was to love them and raise them, together with my wife. To let them decide who _they_ wanted to be. To let them make their own damn choices!" Vader snarled. He was so upset he felt himself _shaking._

Kenobi, wide-eyed, surprise swimming in his gaze, opened his mouth to retort...but evidently, Vader hadn't responded how he'd anticipated. "I...what exactly is your aim, Vader?" He demanded instead.

"My _aim?"_ Now it was Vader's turn to echo. "I think I've already explained myself well enough."

"You might have everyone else fooled, including your wife, but you won't fool _me_," Kenobi snapped, pointing at his own chest with one index finger, his other hand still holding his saber.

"You sanctimonious bastard! I don't give a damn what _you_ think about me. You are nothing but a means to an end."

"Anakin, please…" Padme began, making a placating gesture toward him with her hands.

"No! I may not be aligned with Sidious any longer, but I'm damn sure _not_ going to continue where I left off with Kenobi before I realized just who the hell he was!"

"Who I was?" Kenobi shook his head, his look a cross between exasperation and bewilderment. "You're delusional."

Vader gritted his teeth so hard, he thought they might crack. Time to open the man's eyes once and for all with some real hard _truths. _"The Jedi are all the same. You think you're so high and mighty. Some perfect poster boy for a _corrupt_ organization that needed to be taken down a peg." He snarled the words, his voice barely above a whisper, but his words were all the more impactful because of it.

"I thought you said you regretted your decisions?" Oh, the smug look on Kenobi's face… if Padme wasn't there, he would have punched it off of him. Maybe sliced it off with his saber.

"I regret the part I played in killing innocents and unknowingly transporting slaves for Sidious' nefarious plans, yes. I regret _all _of that," Vader clarified, glaring at the man before him. "But the time of the Jedi is _done_. Ended. If you want to restart it after we win this war, I won't stop you. But I won't join you, either. One thing Sidious _wasn't_ lying about was the corruption you yourself partook in."

Kenobi rolled his eyes, disbelief dripping from his every word. "Explain that one, Vader. Because I don't get it. _How_ were the Jedi so irrevocably evil that you had to turn into a _Sith_ _Lord_ and betray everyone who ever loved you?"

And just like that, with that one comment, in that one defining moment, the galaxy was changed. Forever.

Something deep within Vader cracked. Cracked wide open and spewed out in a cataclysmic eruption he was entirely unable to stop. Something he had privately used to fuel his anger in the worst of his moods. Something he voiced to no one, not even his beloved wife, but rather stewed on it privately in his own head, something now let loose like a tidal wave. "_Loved me?!" _He thundered, "_LOVED me?! _Is that what you'd call what you did to me?!"

"What I did to-?"

Vader barreled on, completely unable to stop. The dam had been breached, broken, and all the words he'd wanted to say, _needed_ to say, all the things he'd tried to say for _years _and had been forced to suppress came surging forth in wave after tumultuous wave. No more could he hold it in, contain it. "You _stole_ me from my _mother…"_

"No. Qui-Gon _saved_ you from a life of slavery!" Obi-Wan began, but again Vader cut him off with a dark, humorless laugh.

"Saved me? You think he _saved me?! At what cost?! _What about my mother?! Did he care about my mother? NO! He didn't! He _left _her there to rot! As a slave! I had no idea if she'd _ever_ be free. If I'd ever see her again. I was a nine-year-old boy who _loved_ my mother with all I had in me! She was the only security I'd ever known, and you dragged me away from her! You took me, a frightened, awestruck little boy to a big world I could barely fathom, dropped me in a Jedi academy, and expected me to pretend she wasn't still there, suffering! Pretend that she didn't even _exist! _At the same time, you told a lost little nine-year-old boy over and over again that he was the _Chosen_ _One_, some almighty, all powerful Jedi savior who would bring balance to the Force and peace to the entire galaxy. _I was nine, Kenobi! _Do you have _any_ idea what kind of pressure the Jedi put on me by doing that?! The expectations thrust upon me by all of you?! Do you know what nine-year-olds _should_ be burdened with? Schoolwork and friends and _family_, that's what! Not with the burden of saving an _entire kriffing galaxy_ from some unknown villain!"

Kenobi opened his mouth. Vader didn't give him a chance to respond. "But if that wasn't bad enough, all of you, and I do mean _all _of you in that damn Temple, treated me like I was a ticking time bomb before I was even given a chance! I was simultaneously a _thing_ of wonder and a _thing_ to be feared! The other padawans were jealous of how quickly I caught on to stuff, how quickly I matched and then surpassed them in skill, and they didn't take too kindly to that! And when they mocked me, bullied me, and attacked me, and I _defended_ myself, who got in trouble, Kenobi? Answer me that! _Who?! Me! _That's who! And _you_ didn't do a damn thing about it except _blame me_ for it and pile on extra chores or meditation, rather than really _listening_ to what I tried to tell you was happening and trying to find a way to actually help me! You didn't even protect me from any of the Knights or Masters who regularly hurled abuse at me! I was a kid, just a _kid_, a lost, frightened, _grieving _kid who missed his mother so much it _hurt_, and from day one, I had no kriffing clue why Master Windu _hated_ my guts! He _hated_ me, Kenobi! H-a-t-e-d _me! _As my master, I thought you were supposed to protect me, as well as train me. And you did _nothing_ to stop his actions toward me. Nothing!"

Kenobi closed his mouth, now staring in silent horror at his former padawan, a strong feeling of guilt starting to overtake him.

"All of you _Masters _were so preoccupied in following your damn creed to the letter that you failed to meet the _needs_ of those who looked up to you, who _relied _on you, who trusted you. You failed Ahsoka. You _failed _so many others. You wonder why Dooku fell to the dark side? Why _I _fell? Look in a damn mirror for once!"

"I did the best I could…" Kenobi tried, and Vader laughed. It was a bitter thing, with no humor or joy in it.

"Spare me the pious drivel! I don't want to hear it! I told you about my dreams. About my mother being tortured, suffering in agony, and dying. What did you do, Kenobi?" His old master didn't answer, just stared at him shell-shocked. "Nothing. You told _me _to do nothing! And I listened to you until I could hardly close my eyes without seeing her calling out for me, literally _begging_ for me to come and save her! _Padme_ at least came with me to try and help her. _She_ listened to me! _You didn't! _By the time I got there, it was too late. She died in my arms after having been beaten and tortured, just like I saw in my visions! She didn't deserve that! Didn't deserve a life of slavery or a cruel death shortly after she was liberated. I could have saved her, had I listened to what the Force had been trying to tell me! I was her _son! _It was my duty, my right to protect her! But _you held me back!"_

"You weren't supposed to have attachments, Vader. That's…"

"Don't give me that hypocritical rancor shit!" Vader shouted. He pointed his finger at the older man again. "_You_ just said you _loved_ me, Kenobi! What the hell is _that_ except an _attachment_?! Explain _that one _to me, because I don't get it! The Jedi decried _emotional attachment_, but here's the thing, Jedi, whether Master, Knight, or padawan, are _all_ sentient beings, no matter their race, who are born to feel _emotions_, Kenobi! It's _natural_ to form attachments! It's natural for beings to feel _love_, to desire to have families of their own as they mature! It's what has driven society on all inhabited worlds across this galaxy for eons! I wanted nothing more than a family, freed from slavery. Did you know that? _That's_ what I wanted, until you and your Jedi cohorts came along and pressured me into being their poster boy, held to a higher standard than any other padawan, one of unattainable expectations by the way, even as they treated me like shit behind closed doors. And you wonder why I didn't trust you enough to talk to you about Padme and I? Why I hid it from you and the rest of the Jedi?!"

"Come on, I always knew…" Kenobi began. Again, it was as if Vader didn't hear him.

"At least the _Sith _acknowledge emotions and sanction their need and use! Even if they _are_ the worst of emotions! You can't just _steal_ babies from their parents, Kenobi, place them in a creche and raise them to not _feel_ anything! We're living beings, not droids, dammit! You can't rewrite _nature_ with your precious kriffing _Code! _News flash for you, IT DOESN'T WORK!

"So when I had dreams of Padme dying in childbirth, I went to Yoda for help. I did what I was supposed to. And you know what? I got _zero _help. NONE! Did you know that when Ahsoka went to him for similar help, before you threw her out to the nexu, mind you, he gave her lots of great advice and help? Did you know? Well, apparently when the _Chosen_ _One_ asked for help, ALL he got was a vague '_rejoice in her death and becoming one with the Force, you should' _comment and a pat on the back as he got kicked out of the office!"

"I would have helped…"

"No! You wouldn't have! You would have given me the _same_ exact bullshit you gave me when I went to you about the dreams I had about my mother. I had Force visions of her being _tortured_ by those Tuskens! And all _you_ had to say was that they were just bad dreams, nothing more, and that they'd _'pass_ _in_ _time_.' You wanted me to _ignore_ my mother once again! So, if I'd told you about Padme, _you_ would have been the good little Jedi Master and gone running to the Council and ratted me out to them, confirming to the entire _Order_ that hating me was smart and trusting me was a bad idea. Just like Mace _always_ said! Hell, you would have kicked me out the door as you did so for breaking the stupid code, and I would have been worse off than I already was! Because I _still_ would've been easy prey for Sidious, if not easier because the Jedi would've hung me out to dry without a second thought!" He lifted his finger again, pointing it at his old master. "And, if you're truly _honest_ with yourself, _you'll admit I'm right. _You _know _I am!_"_

Kenobi swallowed, thickly. The lightsaber was still buzzing in his hand, but his arm hung loose at his side. He honestly looked as if he'd been smashed in the face. Vader wished he'd been the one to do it. "I _loved_ you, Anakin." Kenobi's voice cracked, was quiet, sad. Gone was his usual sass. This was not a side of Kenobi Vader had ever seen before.

And he didn't care. Didn't even register Kenobi had called him Anakin.

"Save it." Vader snarled. "I _hate _you. Not because of what you did..._but because of what you didn't do._"

There was utter silence. Anger still roared in Vader's head, throbbing in his veins, surrounding him. He doubted his eyes were blue anymore. He heaved in great gulps of air to try and steady himself. He suddenly felt nauseous, and he could feel his shaking growing worse with each pounding heartbeat. Daring to glance over at his wife, he saw tears leaking from brown eyes that were swimming with...compassion, a look of heartbreak on her beautiful face. Swallowing hard, he knew he couldn't take anymore. He needed to leave. Now. He turned on his heel, stalking out of the room. "I'll contact you once I set up a meeting with Crimson Dawn. Do try to remain conspicuous in the meantime, Kenobi."

He didn't wait for an answer. All he wanted to do was get to his ship, destroy something, something far away from where Padme could get caught up in it (or witness it)…

"Anakin!...Ani, wait!" He closed his eyes and sighed. Padme. He didn't turn as she approached him from behind...and stopped, not daring to reach out and touch him. Good. He wasn't in the mood right now, and he didn't...couldn't…

"After we rescue Fulcrum, I want you to come home with me." He stopped walking, but didn't turn to her. Didn't move. "I want you to really...truly...meet your children."

He said nothing for a moment, then looked up at the ceiling of the cavern. In the distance, some kind of crystal creature slinked away, clinking as it did so. "As Vader?" he asked, his voice rough. "Or as their father?"

Padme didn't miss a beat. "As their father."

And though anger still roared within him...he relaxed some at those words. Somehow, thank the Force...he hadn't screwed _everything_ up. Not yet, at least. But...he still needed to leave before he did or said something to cause her to change her mind. So, carefully, he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. She stood there in her Nightblade outfit, staring at him. There was...concern there, in those beautiful dark eyes. Longing. And yet...sadness. Pain. Anger. Hurt. A myriad of emotions.

His anger ebbed away, and he suddenly felt very, very tired. As if losing it on Kenobi had taken everything out of him. He hadn't even ignited his lightsaber. It was still in his hand.

"Thank you, Angel." His voice was hoarse. "I...look forward to it."

And before he could stop himself or do anything else that would ruin everything, he turned and strode for his ship, leaving Padme behind.

Such a thin line he was walking. He wasn't sure when he'd fall off and go tumbling back down into the pit of hell he'd been living in, but given _his_ life history, it was bound to happen at some point.

He just hoped he didn't drag Padme and their children down with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when you thought things were getting better...nope! Muahahahahaha!   
Also....I am fully aware of Obi-Wan's side of the story. I understand that he's hurt, too. But this was Anakin's moment to let it all out. Sometimes the only way to understand someone is to view their point of view, even if it's flawed. There may still be truths to learn from.   
The song for this chapter is "I Feel Like I'm Drowning" by Two Feet.  
Leave some love!   
Love,  
LadyVader23


	24. Crimson Dawn

There was so much to think about, to discuss. She knew that, and she knew he knew that.

But it was difficult to come to a consensus on _anything _when you were basically having a one-sided conversation.

The whole trip home, she and Obi-Wan barely spoke. Not because that was her intention, of course, but because every time Padme had tried to get Obi-Wan to open up and talk about anything, he'd only responded with clipped responses, one to two worded answers at most. He'd parked himself in the copilot's chair and just didn't _move. _Not for the entire flight back. He rarely took his eyes away from the lanes of hyperspace outside of the front port windows, his arms crossed over his chest. The only movement he made was to occasionally reach up and rub his beard absently.

Not that she could entirely blame him. Her husband's cracked composure had revealed stuff so long held in, it was a wonder he'd not imploded _before_ Mustafar. Stuff he'd never even shared with _her_ before, and his volatile eruption had left her heartbroken and reeling at what all Anakin had suffered.

And she wasn't even the one on the receiving end of his diatribe! Poor Obi-Wan. He surely hadn't seen that coming.

Vader had, to put it bluntly, verbally and emotionally blindsided his former mentor, pummeling him up one side and down the other, venting _years_ and _years _of deeply repressed emotional turmoil...the end result of his having, ultimately, been badly _mis_handled by the Jedi on one hand, and taken advantage of by Palpatine on the other. Leading them all into the current state the galaxy was now in. So, in all fairness, she suspected it would take the Jedi Master a while to come to grips with everything that he'd seen and heard and _felt _spewing forth from his former padawan.

Evidently, Vader's scathing explosion of hard and bitter truth had put Obi-Wan in a rather contemplative mood, and nothing she did or said could get him to snap out of it.

But perhaps that was what was necessary. The state of the galaxy wasn't the _o_nly thing that needed to change. And, she certainly had to concur with her husband's assertions about the Jedi. Even as a queen, she'd never agreed with their ludicrous 'No attachments' poodoo either. Just because a being was Force sensitive did not mean they were born with an internal destitution of emotional capacity. No matter their gender or their race, Jedi were beings who were meant to feel and express emotions. Just like the billions of non-Force sensitives in the galaxy. To be forced to do otherwise, for lack of a better term, was unhealthy and detrimental to not only the individual but, as in her husband's case, the entire damn galaxy to boot! So, yes, her husband was right. About the Jedi and their ridiculous Code, as well as about the Sith, evil though they were, who didn't prohibit emotions.

Honestly, Vader/Anakin had given them _both _much to think on.

So, when they arrived back home on Gandle Ott, got in their speeder and raced through the forest for home, Padme let him be. She didn't even object when they reached the house in the late afternoon and Obi-Wan parked the speeder, leaving his bag in it, and stalked off without saying a word, disappearing into the nearby woods. Glancing at the house, she thought she saw a small green figure in the distance disappear into the woods as well, and she suspected Obi-Wan had communicated the urgency of their own private meeting with the diminutive Jedi Grand Master. She was sure Yoda was about to get quite an earful.

Good. He needed to know what had transpired in their meeting on Crait...as well as what Vader had said afterward.

She sincerely hoped they weren't going to make plans to turn on Vader. She doubted, given some of Yoda's comments recently about her husband, that he would _let_ Obi-Wan turn on Vader, but...she couldn't ever be totally for sure.

But that was a discussion to be had at a later time. And it _was_ coming. No doubt about it. Especially considering Obi-Wan's reaction to her husband actually _visiting_ with her and their twins.

No doubt the Jedi Master was both perturbed that she refused to allow the twins to be taken from her to be trained as padawans (a decision her husband obviously agreed with her on)...and that she had agreed to allow him anywhere near Luke and Leia in the first place.

Not that it was Obi-Wan's decision to make, of course...which irked the Jedi Master to no end.

Tough. They weren't his kids.

So instead, she climbed out of the speeder, grabbed both hers and Obi-Wan's bag of supplies, and headed towards the house on her own, her feet treading silently on the soft, moss covered ground. As she trudged along, she realized that with each step towards home she felt...lighter. Each breath she took felt fuller, fresher, purer. And when the front door opened and her mother stood there with Luke and Leia peeking out from behind her skirt, wary looks on their cherubic faces, she paused mid step, just staring at her family. Padme immediately noted that the twins, though trepidatious at her approach, had grown at least an inch, if not two, since she had last left home...and she stopped, cold, shock reverberating through her system.

Had she really been away from home _that_ long?

Worse, the twins seemed to really hesitate upon seeing her. Did they not recognize her? Their own mother? Or, perhaps did they not believe she'd really returned home? But before she could puzzle it out, Leia made a strangled noise, and broke into a run towards her mother, arms outstretched, tears in her pretty brown eyes. Padme dropped the bags and sank to her knees, even as Luke, always following after his more headstrong sister, followed close behind Leia, and soon her arms were filled with two small, warm bodies, their chubby arms wrapping around her neck, squeezing as if their lives depended on it. She almost couldn't breathe, they held her so tightly, but she didn't care. She grinned and buried her face in Leia's tangle of mahogany tresses, so like her own, one of her hands going up to brush affectionately through Luke's golden mop of curls. So like Anakin's. Wait. So like Vader's? Whatever. Just like his _father's. _She breathed in their familiar scent-the smell of the forest around them, probably from hours of playing in it with Yoda, looking for the ever elusive Bob the frog.

Her babies. She was home.

Thank the Force.

The kids were crying so hard, she could barely understand their babbling. "I know, I know, my darlings. I'm so sorry," she soothed in a soft, warm tone. Repeatedly, she smoothed their hair with her hands, rubbed their backs, as she gently pulled away just a moment to press kisses onto their tear-streaked faces.

She didn't even notice her mother's approach. "You were gone for a long time." Her mother commented carefully. "We were beginning to worry you weren't coming home."

Padme didn't move from the ground, didn't let either of the twins go. Force, it _hurt_, being away from them like she too often was. She didn't let herself feel it while she was out in the field, true...but now that she was home, now that she'd seen her twins had put on a few inches without her there… she let herself feel the emotions, let it fuel the hatred she had towards Sidious and his Empire for forcing her family to live like this. "A lot has happened, Mom."

"Darred went into town the other day to get some fresh supplies. There were...rumors." Again, her mother spoke carefully, unsure of how much she wanted the children to overhear.

They were still two, almost three. They likely wouldn't understand. "Go get Sola and Darred," Padme said, and slowly, she picked up each twin, settling one on either hip. They were getting heavy. Soon she wouldn't be able to hold both of them like this. But for the moment, the twins seemed to be calming, though they didn't let go of her she noticed. That was just fine with her. "We have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Hours later, Padme lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She wasn't alone. Tucked in on either side of her were the small forms of Luke and Leia. Leia's little arms stretched above her head on the pillow, her dark curls splayed out above her head as she breathed quietly, and Luke had one arm thrown over Padme's upper chest, their lithe Loth cat purring away, curled contentedly at her son's feet. Luke was making tiny snores that she couldn't help but smile at. _So much like Anakin, even in his sleep. _The unbidden thought brought a rush of warmth and affection through her.

The warm feelings lingered, but the smile quickly faded, as she thought back over her conversations with Vader on his ship, their meeting on Crait, Vader's final explosion, all of which resulted in the hushed discussion with her mother, sister, and brother-in-law after the four children were settled. Her meeting in the living room earlier with Sola, Darred, and her mother had been...awkward, to say the least. And, she hadn't missed the fact that neither Jedi had put in an appearance. Which left her to field their questions by herself. So, she'd explained what had happened with Sandstorm, then the attack on Ryloth, then the unexpected message she'd received from Darth Vader when they were heading home. She explained how she put two and two together, and how she and Obi-Wan had gone to The Executor...only to fall under attack by the Emperor's men when they got there. She explained the battle, how Vader himself had shown up, seriously injured, having failed in his mission to kill the Emperor, and how they'd teamed up to fight in the thick of the sudden battle raging between the two Sith's sides. She explained how they would have lost, but then they were rescued by those who defected from Sidious' naval forces to join Darth Vader and his growing fleet in his quest to defeat and destroy the Emperor.

She mentioned that afterwards she and Vader had discussed several things. She didn't say what they discussed exactly. She merely said they had entered a _truce..._and that she had not yet forgiven him for everything he'd done. _Yet_ being the operative word.

No one pressed her for more information.

She explained about having to leave Vader's fleet and go back to Rebel Command, having to set up a secret meeting on Crait, the meeting itself...and then the final cataclysmic argument between Vader and Obi-Wan. Again, she didn't mention more detail than that there was an argument between them. She would let Obi-Wan decide how much, if anything, he wanted to disclose to her family. Again, Vader's accusations had been hurled at Obi-Wan, Yoda, and the Order. Not _her._

It wasn't her story to tell.

Their reactions had been...mixed. Joy that there was a major development in the fight against the Empire. Terror that Padme had almost died. Distrust and suspicion towards her husband.

Naturally.

So, while her family had debated on the larger implications of these new developments, Padme had taken the twins to retire to bed. Together. She'd missed them too much, been gone too long from home, and she wasn't willing to part with them tonight. Luckily, they seemed to feel the exact same way. Or perhaps they sensed her feelings on the matter and simply cooperated.

More than likely, it was a combination of both.

But now that they were asleep, she lay there, totally awake, the events of recent weeks replaying over and over in her mind. Was she _really_ willing to let Vader into the lives of her...no, _their..._children? He'd seemed genuine, both on the Executor and on Crait. In fact, it was that genuine, heartfelt response, angry as it had been on Crait, that had finally thawed the ice in her chest and convinced her that _maybe_ bringing Vader into the picture would be beneficial for their family. For...whatever Vader himself was going through, and he was going through a lot, to be sure.

She mulled that possibility over.

Perhaps having herself and the twins back in his life would help bring Anakin Skywalker, her much beloved Ani, back from the depths of hell that he'd fallen into. All he had ever wanted, he'd yelled at Obi-Wan, was a family. With _her. _He'd told her the same thing in private in his bedchamber on the Executor. And she had no doubt it was her presence that had convinced Vader to take the steps that had caused him to eventually turn on the Emperor. With that said, who knew what the _twins_ could do for their father.

For some reason, she could only hope, _believe _it would be auspicious...for them all.

And, as she thought it over, looking down at her sleeping babies, she wondered what good it would do for her children to actually _have_ their father in their lives. She was certain that the Force would likely open a strong bond between them, and perhaps it would even be healthier for her children in the long run.

They had Force bonds with Yoda and Obi-Wan, true, but those would pale in comparison to one with their father. Just look at the bond Luke and Leia already shared with each other as brother and sister, more...as _twins. _Pretty powerful stuff.

And their father could understand them and help them in ways the other Jedi simply couldn't _because_ of the familial bond, the _blood_ bond they shared.

_Or..._ the Jedi's darkest fears could be realized, and her children would grow up to become Sith. It was still a definite risk. One, logically, she shouldn't be risking. If she was just Nightblade, she wouldn't have. Her training wouldn't have let her.

But the flip side of the credit chip said otherwise.

The Padme side of her. The compassionate side that at one point, directly after her husband's fall, had believed there was still good in him.

_She_ was taking the risk.

But even though her choice was made, it still terrified her enough to keep her awake.

There was a soft knock on the door. "Come in." Padme stage-whispered, and the door cracked open, revealing Sola. Her sister smiled softly, but it didn't quite reach her eyes, and she eased in and quietly shut the door behind her, leaving them once more in darkness. "Hey," Padme breathed.

"Hi." Sola replied softly, before silently making her way to the bed. Padme's throat tightened as her sister carefully sat down, then lay down beside Luke, facing her, taking care not to disturb the boy. When Padme had been young, younger than when she'd started in Naboo's Youth Legislative Program, Sola had always been good at sensing when she was upset. She'd always come into her room, late, after their parents had gone to bed, and lay down with her in her twin bed. Though there hadn't been much room and it _was_ tight quarters, it had always comforted Padme, and Sola talked with her until they fell asleep, their worries fading into long-forgotten dreams. "I'm glad you're home, Sis," Sola whispered when she'd settled.

"Me, too." Padme again looked down at the twins. "They grew an inch and a half while I was away." She'd measured them once she'd brought them into her room. Luke had been particularly proud of the gain in height, and Padme had made a big deal about congratulating them, even as her heart cried out in pain at what else she must have missed in their lives the last few weeks.

"They missed you," Sola said softly. "They weren't lonely or anything. They had plenty of playtime with Pooja and Ryoo, and Master Yoda, but I could still tell. Luke was the most obvious. He'd ask repeatedly every day if you were coming home yet. He _never_ gives up, that boy. Leia is more _temperamental_…She has more tantrums it seems, when you're not around. I think it's the only way she really knows how to express her frustrations. Yoda handled those exceptionally well, so they never lasted long. But she's two, so...Short attention span."

Padme closed her eyes, breathing deep. Yes, her twins _really_ needed their father. They were so much like him, in so many ways, and truthfully, she realized she needed her husband's help to raise them. "I wish he'd been able to kill him," She whispered fervently.

That was an understatement.

Sola didn't need to ask what she meant. She knew. "How are you feeling? With all of that?"

Padme didn't respond for a long moment. How _did _she feel? Good question. She just didn't know if she really had the answer. She'd been trying to sort out all those complicated feelings ever since she'd gotten the message that had changed everything. "I think he means it. I don't think he's lying. I genuinely believe he's sincere."

"Well, Anakin never seemed to be the lying type," Sola agreed.

Padme snorted. "No. That was never his weakness."

She didn't continue. Sola pressed. "Then what is it that worries you?"

It was difficult to answer. "Anakin...and even Vader...they're both extremely _passionate_. Almost single mindedly so. They expect results and will do whatever is necessary to get them."

"Which can be either good. Or bad."

Her sister hit the proverbial nail on the head.

"Exactly." Padme breathed out a sigh. "So, if something or _someone_ were to threaten me or the children...who is to say that the whole vicious, toxic cycle wouldn't begin all over again?"

Sola nodded, a thoughtful frown on her face. "It can't be easy for him, Sis. He has all of that power, coupled with all of that responsibility...so when he has a moment of weakness, it can be dangerous. Even deadly."

"And I don't want that potentially fatal flaw to hurt my family again." Padme replied, softly.

Sola considered this. "That's more than understandable."

"But?"

Sola frowned, gathering her thoughts before answering. "Do you remember Rajah?"

Padme blinked, trying to recall who in the hell her sister meant. It took her a long moment, but she finally remembered the gangly five-year-old on Naboo from her elementary school. "Yeah. What about him?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion. What in the kriff did that scenario have to do with this present situation?

"When you started going to school, he was your class bully. Remember? He treated _everyone_ horribly. Had awful tantrums. Broke things. Lashed out at people. He especially seemed to hate _you_. Oh, I remember...You'd come home from school with dirt or mud on your dress and terrible bruises. Mom and Dad were _so_ angry! I remember them constantly meeting with your teacher, who tried everything she could think of to control the poor boy. But nothing seemed to work."

"I remember." The more Sola spoke, the clearer the memories became. She hadn't thought of Rajah in so long. Many years, actually. She wondered what had become of him. "What's your point?"

"Well, your Headmaster was going to expel him. He honestly should have, but do you remember why he didn't?"

"Because I stormed into his office and told him off?" Padme cracked a smile.

Sola chuckled softly. "You can say that again. Apparently, your little speech in defence of this boy made the Headmaster give him another chance, even though there was no valid reason to do so. And that one act of kindness from someone who had _every_ reason to hate him caused Rajah to begin to soften, just a little. When he'd be mean to you, you'd be kinder to him. When he began to pick on other kids, you stepped in to help him express himself in a healthier manner, teaching him, guiding him, _helping_ him. You see, Sis...it turned out he was being abused at home, and he finally told someone who could help him get out of that situation because of _you_. Before...before this whole Empire mess happened, last I heard, he was a respectable young man serving as a volunteer helping refugees. If you hadn't done what you did to help that angry, hurting little boy, who knows how his life might have turned out."

Padme hadn't known that. She felt a little bad for never thinking about the boy once she'd moved on from her schooling, but she now sent a mental prayer to any gods that would listen to watch over him, if he were still alive. "So?" She still was confused by her sister's point in this story.

"_So_, even at five years old, you were always seeing the good in people who didn't deserve it. That ability is what made you such a beloved queen. It's what made you an even better Senator. My point, Padme, is this: Now that the Republic has fallen and Vader has broken free from the shackles of the Emperor...I imagine he's very lost, too. And, he's probably hurting. He could very well end up worse off than where he started. But perhaps what he needs is for _someone_ to see the good in him, to push him to act on it. Someone like _you."_

Sola paused and simply stared into her younger sister's eyes for a few moments, allowing her to absorb what she'd said, the comparison that she'd made. Before Padme could reply, however, Sola continued with her point.

"Ironically, I think he's freer now to explore a healthier way of living than he _ever_ was able to as a Jedi or a Sith. To me, _both_ organizations seemed to selfishly desire to harness him for his power and what they could _get_ from him. Neither side ever seemed to have _his_ best interests at the heart of the matter, either. But, I don't think he can do this alone...I don't think you should sacrifice _everything_ for him again, no...but I think what you're doing _now_ will tell you what path he will decide to take from now on."

"Except whatever path he makes for himself here on out will decide the fate of the galaxy, let alone our family." Padme grumbled, her lips twisting as she considered her sister's words. "No pressure there."

"Don't worry about that right now," Sola soothed. "Focus on what you _can_ control. Focus on you being you. Don't react based on the worst potential outcome. Like Rajah, see the good in your husband, and react accordingly. If it doesn't work out...then we'll figure it out together. As a family. Remember, nothing in life is ever fully safe. Life, to be worth living, requires a little risk. That means we don't hide from the galaxy and let life pass us by."

"We meet life head on and tackle the challenges as they come. We do our best," Padme had heard Sola say this to her children many a time before. And, to be truthful, it did soothe the knot in her chest. Just a bit. "Thanks, Sola." She paused, thinking. "And...after my next mission...I want you and Darred and Mom to take your girls for a day out."

Sola raised a brow. "Something tells me you _won't_ be returning with just Obi-Wan that trip."

"No. And if it goes wrong, I don't want your family to get hurt." _Not_ _again_, she added in her head.

"I don't want to leave you alone if it means sending me away," Sola responded. Ever the protective big sister to the last.

"As you said." Padme smiled a little. "This is something I need to do, hoping that it will cause Vader...Anakin...to act on the good that's still left in him."

Sola sighed. "I won't ask. But tell me afterwards?"

"I promise."

Sola reached up and brushed Padme's hair away from her face, leaned over, and kissed her forehead. "Do try not to leave so much."

"I'll try." But she couldn't make any promises. This was still a _war._

"I don't want to lose you for real."

"I know."

"I love you, Sis."

Padme's throat tightened. If only she could, for once in her life, forget duty and put her family first. But...her duty was _for_ her family. For their wellbeing. How could she abandon it? "I love you, too," she whispered back, and the two sisters lay there in the dark, the twins wrapped around Padme, well into the night.

* * *

From behind the mask, Vader clenched his teeth and glowered at Obi-Wan, as the older Jedi climbed out of his hunk of junk he called a ship, stepping out onto the yellow sands of the barren wasteland that was Savareen. There were barely any inhabitants on the planet. Any land that it had was covered in sand, much like that of Tatooine, with minimal vegetation to be seen, but unlike his home world, this planet also had vast oceans, which did help to cool the climate somewhat, but somehow, the ocean churning angrily nearby seemed just as barren as the sand he stood on.

How fitting.

Vader crossed his arms over his chest, certain Kenobi could feel his profound disdain for this combined mission rolling off of him in waves as the Jedi slowly approached him. He'd sent the Alliance the encrypted message only two days before, notifying them that the meeting with Dryden Vos was set up and was a go. It had been a week since Crait, however. An entire week since he'd verbally exploded on his former master. While he hadn't regretted one iota voicing his long suppressed opinions, once he'd settled down, his distaste over having to work with the Jedi had soured even more. He hadn't thought that was possible, and yet when the Alliance confirmed the receipt of his message and requested coordinates for their operative, he'd debated on pretending he hadn't received their communique until _after_ the meeting was done with. A little '_Oops, sorry I missed your comm._' He'd smirked at the idea.

But, he'd doubted Padme would have believed it though, and he didn't want to lie to his wife, so he'd grudgingly handed the coordinates over, muttering curses in Huttese the entire time.

Anytime he'd doubted what he was doing in the last few days, all he had to do was go to his private quarters and check in on his family using the microdroids he'd secretly deployed in his wife's home to remind himself what was at stake in all this. Of _who_ was at stake. His family. They were still - and always would be - his top priority.

So, he squelched his desire to cut the Jedi down right then and there, on that barren remote planet on the edge of known space, claiming later that there had been a most unfortunate _accident_. He snorted. He doubted Padme would believe that either.

Obi-Wan stopped in front of him, a few meters separating them, frowning around at the barren landscape. "Where is everyone?" He asked, brow furrowed, waving his arm in a wide arc across the desolate sweep of land that made up the unimpressive view. "Isn't this supposed to be one of Crimson Dawn's main harbors for business?"

Vader clenched his teeth, slowly counting backwards from ten in his head. _You cannot kill him. Don't even go there! Just let it go. _He felt his jaw tighten even more. Yes, it was a very good thing he'd decided to come as Vader on this mission. Very good, indeed. It meant Obi-Wan couldn't see the flat out loathing and malice in his expression. It likely would have started an argument, a rather nasty one at that, and ended up derailing the entire mission. But, irregardless, Vader had no doubt the older man could still sense it. "It doesn't mean many of CD's minions choose to live here long term, Kenobi," He replied, as coolly as he possibly could. Then, before Kenobi could ask any more stupid questions, Vader flicked his wrist, motioning to the box sitting in the sand beside him. "_That_ is for you."

Kenobi frowned, glancing down at the box before lifting his gaze back to the masked man before him. "A gift, Vader? How thoughtful." He lifted a brow, "I wasn't aware you made a habit of arriving bearing gifts. Do forgive my lack of propriety in returning the gesture." A slight smirk lifted the corners of the Jedi's mouth.

Vader rolled his eyes. Ever the smartass. He had a feeling this would be a _very_ long day. Ignoring the man's sarcasm, he motioned to the box once again. "It's your disguise, Old Man. What you're wearing will not suffice for this endeavor, delicate as it is."

Kenobi glanced down at his outfit. He'd deliberately not worn his normal robes, of course; however, it wasn't anywhere _near_ the garb of a Jedi, and was something one of the inhabitants of this world might have worn. Torn, brown layers of inexpensive, rough-spun cloth, a hood, and a mask that looked like it might have been the same type that Padme used for her Nightblade outfit. "Maul wouldn't recognize me in this outfit." Kenobi protested. "Though I thought you said he wouldn't even be here?"

"He won't." Vader replied bitterly. "But while your garb would help you blend in with the local population, it would certainly raise questions about _why_ a local citizen of no consequence from Savareen would even be seen in the presence of - let alone wandering around with - the defected Heir to the Empire. Dryden would more than likely tell Maul about it, and Maul might decide to do some digging around in regard to your _identity_. I don't need to remind you that arousing Maul's suspicions would _not_ be wise, and I don't have the time nor the patience for dealing with a wannabe Sith Lord at the moment. There is a much bigger fish to fry in the galaxy first." He practically bit off the last comments, his tone an ominous growl.

Kenobi opened his mouth, likely to make some sassy quip that would make Vader consider strangling him, but his mouth snapped shut and the man leaned down, opening the lid of the box. "A _stormtrooper _uniform? You must be joking!" He stood back up, his mouth hanging open, his eyebrows arched to his hairline as he gaped at his former padawan.

Figures Kenobi wouldn't be able to distinguish between the various ranks of stormtroopers. "It's a TIE pilot uniform," Vader corrected, annoyed. "And one bearing the ranks of _my_ elite force: The 501st. It would be natural - even expected - for one of _them_ to accompany me on this mission."

Honestly, it was like he was having to explain stealth investigative tactics to a newbie, not an experienced, battle-hardened Jedi General from the Clone Wars!

_Idiotic_ _fool!_

Kenobi made a face, and Vader was surprised to find himself just barely, vaguely amused by the disgust in Kenobi's face. Perhaps it would be a long day for his former master, as well. The thought gave him at least _some_ satisfaction. "It's...logical." Kenobi finally conceded, then let out a long sigh. "Fine. Hold on."

"Do hurry. We're supposed to meet with Dryden on the First Light in an hour, and it will take almost that long to get there." Vader chided him sarcastically, but Kenobi ignored him, merely turning and waving a lazy hand in his direction, and headed back to his ship to change. Vader shook his head before turning to his own shuttle to wait on board.

Fifteen minutes later, Kenobi was entering Vader's shuttle wearing the clanking armor of a TIE pilot, the helmet tucked securely under his arm. Kenobi was scowling, glaring at Vader in the pilot's seat, as he himself sat down in the copilots chair. "Well, I must say...The armor has significantly downgraded in quality since the Clone Wars," he commented sardonically, as Vader wordlessly started up the ship.

Under his mask, Vader scowled, but said nothing. Not that he didn't _agree_ with the man for once, shockingly enough. But, he wasn't going to engage in inane, unimportant prattle with the Jedi either, not if he could help it anyway. The less said between them, the likelier it was he'd let Kenobi walk out of there alive. Still, as he began piloting the ship towards the coordinates Dryden had sent to him earlier, ignoring the man beside him once again in the copilots seat, Vader grudgingly conceded that Kenobi was right. In the Emperor's mind, why waste money on creating decent armor for the troops that were, quite frankly, _expendable, _when there were other pet projects of his that needed the funds more? Like that stupid Death Star, for instance. Besides, if they weren't smart enough not to be hit by blaster fire in the first place, then in Sidious' mind, they didn't deserve to live anyway.

He too, had once believed that. Now? He didn't know. He didn't have time to think about it, however. The goal of this mission was uppermost in his mind at the moment.

The flight seemed interminably longer than it was merely because of Kenobi's presence and the fact that Vader refused to rise to _any_ of the Jedi's baited attempts at conversation. _Patience, a virtue it is, young Skywalker. Learn it, you must. _Those long ago uttered words from Yoda suddenly flitted through his mind, and Vader snorted, drawing a surprised look from his companion. How _ironic _for him to think of that _now_. Amused, he wondered if Yoda would be suitably impressed at the level of _patience_ he was exerting at the moment. He could almost hear the _Hmmm..._from the little green troll, imagining the Jedi Grand Master folding his three-fingered _paws?..._over his gimmer stick, as he stared him down with narrowed eyes. Shaking his head at the imagery, he kept silent, doubting Kenobi would share in his amusement. It wasn't until they were almost at their destination that Vader finally did speak. "You will take care to hide your Force signature. I doubt Dryden will have any Force sensitives there to sense who you are, but it pays to be cautious."

"I already am." Kenobi pointed out dryly.

"Then why is it that _I _can sense you?" Vader growled, turning to glance at the older man.

Kenobi hesitated. "Likely because you opened our bond again."

Vader whirled his seat around to face his former mentor, glaring, even though Kenobi couldn't see it. "I did no such…" He raised his hand, jabbing his index finger pointedly at the Jedi with each growled word only to have the unperturbed man cut him off mid sentence.

"You did." Kenobi quietly averred. "To warn us about the imminent attack from the Empire. Remember?"

Vader's mouth snapped shut. Oh. Yeah. He had done that. He'd almost forgotten about it. _Well, kriff! _"An act of desperation, I assure you. Nothing more, and it will _not_ happen again." Vader turned back forward, his fingers moving expertly over the controls. "Just do not screw this up, Kenobi. Admittedly, I have not actually called upon Dryden personally before, and I have no doubt he is extra curious now that I've defected, so he will likely be hypersensitive to what happens here today."

"It could be helpful, though."

Vader blinked, momentarily confused by the Jedi's comment. "What?"

"Our bond." Kenobi clarified, though he looked...hesitant. Almost as if this weren't his own idea. "If something goes wrong...we could communicate…"

"Absolutely not." Vader thundered, whirling again, pointing his finger in his old master's face. A long time ago, that reaction would have gotten him into significant trouble. Not today. "What happened was necessary, but regrettable. I have _every_ intention of letting that bond wither and die, like it should have on Mustafar."

Kenobi looked at him, then at his finger, then back at him. "But if it's useful…," he persisted, shrugging, appearing not in the least bit concerned by his finger-wagging former padawan's ire.

Inhaling sharply, Vader's hand clenched into a fist, and he began counting backwards from a hundred in his mind. Just counting from ten wouldn't be enough. The Jedi was pushing it. _Kriff!_ Maybe Padme would forgive him, just this once, if he at least sliced a limb off…

But that line of thinking died almost as quickly as the thoughts formed, as the ship banked and turned, and suddenly there before them was the tall vertical form of Dryden's personal yacht, the First Light. "Just don't do anything stupid that will compromise our position, Kenobi...And, only call me 'Sir' or 'Lord Vader' - _nothing_ else." Vader snarled as he focused on landing the ship.

* * *

_Testing, testing, one, two, three…_

Vader's hands clenched into fists for what felt like the millionth time today, as they entered the First Light, to be briskly greeted by Dryden's security personnel. Security that had been upped specifically for his arrival, no doubt. Security Vader could have torn through in an instant with a mere thought. He pointedly ignored the TIE pilot following closely at his heels, ignored it when the bay doors hissed closed behind them, trapping them in a too-small room with Dryden's security standing before an angry Sith Lord and his (unbeknownst to them) former Jedi master.

_Did you get that?_

Did he ever. Unfortunately.

"Weapons." One of the guards demanded, looking pointedly at Vader's lightsaber and the blaster in Kenobi's holster.

Vader slowly turned his gaze on the officer, his suit's mechanical breathing painfully loud in the enclosed space, and he let the sheer intimidation of his size and power overwhelm the man. Though the guard didn't show it outwardly, Vader could still feel his fear thrumming into the Force.

In fact, he could feel _all_ of their fear. He drank it in, but surprisingly, not _enjoying_ it like he used to. Hmm…that's _odd_. But he couldn't think about that now.

_You could mind trick them, you know. _Kenobi commented unhelpfully through their bond. Admittedly, the connection wasn't as strong as it once had been, and it sounded almost like Kenobi was talking to him through a tunnel. It even seemed to echo. Unfortunately, Vader could still understand him. Every blasted word.

_Dammit!_

"You _will_ let us through without relieving us of our weapons," Vader replied, though he didn't use it as a Jedi mind trick. No. He was no Jedi. If he was truly being himself, he'd simply strangle the lot of them and march directly up to Dryden's office. Nothing further to annoy him.

"But My Lord, regulation states…" the security guard began, but Vader cut him off.

"_I_ am above that regulation. I answer to _no_ _one_, least of all you or your boss, Dryden, and if I wanted to, I could destroy this entire ship without ever once touching my lightsaber. Just to be clear on the matter." He tilted his helmeted head. "So. What will it be?" The threat was obvious in his words, in the very tone of his voice, and the security guards paled.

_Really? _Kenobi sighed. _You know I won't stand by as you slaughter…_

"V-Very well, My Lord. Through that lift…" The security guards reluctantly stepped aside, and Vader smirked in satisfaction as the turbolift doors swished open, and he stepped inside, his dark cape fluttered behind him as he moved forward, with Kenobi on his heels. He was half tempted to rub it in Kenobi's face through their Force bond that he'd gotten them in without resorting to Jedi tricks _or_ murdering anyone, but he didn't want to give Kenobi the satisfaction of him even deigning to answer him, so he merely crossed his arms over his massive chest as the lift took them up to the main lobby of the yacht, in one of the levels high above...

Where the doors swished back open to reveal a lavish party full of criminals, thugs, gangsters, and the like from all across the galaxy.

_Lovely company the man keeps. Were you expecting to be invited to a party? Though I must say, you don't exactly strike me as a party animal, Vader. _Kenobi remarked dryly, and Vader clenched his teeth. Again. Truthfully, he wasn't surprised by this little soiree. He knew Dryden often hosted parties, especially when making deals. He considered them a distraction, a way to ply his potential customers with alcohol and revelry of the most sordid kind in the attempt to either get a better deal for himself or find out more sensitive information from those who couldn't hold their liquor.

Or their Death Sticks.

Plus, Vader thought, as they stepped into the room fully and he eyed the multitude of scantily dressed females sashaying around, there were other _things_ Dryden typically made money from during these parties.

Oh yes. Vader thanked the Force indeed that his beautiful, beloved wife was safely at home on Gandle Ott and not _here_. It wouldn't have gone..._well_ if she'd been his accomplice for this particular mission. No, no, no, no, _no..._Not. At. All.

Naturally, the moment Vader and Kenobi-the-fake-TIE-pilot stepped into the room, a hush fell over the crowd, and everyone there turned to stare at them and nervously gave them space. Even the serving droids gave them a wide berth. Some at least tried not to give off the impression of doing so, eager not to invite Vader's ire, but they cleared the way all the same. Vader didn't care. He wasn't there to party. He _detested_ parties, mind you. The suit wouldn't have even let him partake, even if he'd wanted to, which he didn't. Kenobi would be in the same boat, being in the suit of the TIE pilot. That thought actually amused him, and he had to fight back a bark of laughter.

Kenobi the _party animal?_ Despite his former master's well known fondness for Corillean brandy, he knew the Jedi would sooner fall into the sarlacc than break the precious _Code. _Especially in a place such as _this._

So, he ignored the horrified stares and curious looks thrown his way and stalked unhindered through the crowd to the staircase he knew would lead to Dryden's personal office, his cloak swirling in his wake, Kenobi still hot on his heels. There was another security guard at the foot of the stairs who blanched when he saw Vader heading his way. "M-My L-Lord, the Boss is finishing up with a client…"

But Vader was already aware of that. He was also aware that the life signature of said client had just winked out, filtering back into the Force in agony before smoothing into nothingness. So, he simply ignored the babbling fool as he pushed past him and stalked up the stairs.

_This Dryden guy seems like a really upstanding citizen already. _Kenobi remarked bitterly. Vader figured he must be growing used to the Jedi's incessant Force chatter, because he'd barely blinked at his comment. He didn't even clench his teeth this time. How annoying. He still refused to answer him, though. Certainly, Kenobi had also felt the death of the unknown individual, and as they reached the top of the stairs, it was visually confirmed when they watched two guards dragging the still bleeding, lifeless body across the floor to dispose of it...somewhere else.

Dryden had his back turned to them and was breathing rather heavily. In his hand was the weapon Vader knew he preferred: a Kyuzo Petar, and the energy chord had just been deactivated. Dryden sighed, straightened his shoulders, and then turned, a perfectly pleasant smile stretching across his face. Ever the polite host, as if he hadn't just offed one of his own clients. If Vader were anyone else, he was sure it would be meant to intimidate him, but to _him_, a man who had murdered countless people across the galaxy with just a _thought_...without even bothering to go for his lightsaber, it seemed like nothing more than a child playacting at being a big tough gangster. It was rather pathetic, actually. It certainly didn't score any brownie points with _him_. "Ah, _Lord_ _Vader_. Right on time, as expected. Do come in. Sit down, please. Relax."

"I prefer to stand." Vader growled out, stepping further into the room. He didn't miss the guards stationed all around the room. One of them approached Dryden with a platter, and Dryden placed his Kyuzo Petar's onto it. Vader lifted a brow. Either Dryden had a lot of confidence in the safety of being surrounded by his men, or he was trying to show Vader he trusted him by putting away his pathetic weapons.

Or he was simply a fool.

Watching the man, Vader concluded it was probably a mix of all three.

"To each their own." Dryden said with a pleasant smile, turning to another guard who stepped forward holding a platter of drinks and food. He plucked a glass from the platter, waving a hand at it. "Please. Indulge."

Vader rolled his eyes, though no one could see him do so. "I am not here to party, Dryden. I am here on business, and as soon as it is concluded, I intend on leaving."

Dryden inclined his head, taking a swig from his glass before motioning to Kenobi. "And your trooper? Surely, you'll allow him to take a well earned break."

_He seems awfully eager to share. _Kenobi remarked dryly.

"He is on duty. There will be no such breaks if he wishes to return to the Executor alive." Vader growled. If he wasn't ignoring Kenobi, he would have informed him that Dryden was trying his best to get them drunk in a ploy to get a better deal. But it also would require them taking off their helmets, and the knowledge of who they were would be priceless for someone like Dryden.

And _that_ wasn't happening.

Dryden shrugged and crossed to his couch, calmly sitting down and leaning back, crossing his legs in a casual pose, the ever perfect picture of someone who knew he had what they wanted, and would play that card for as long as possible. As if he was untouchable.

How banal could the man be?

Technically, Dryden wasn't untouchable. If Vader wanted, he could tear him to shreds in the blink of an eye, then everyone else on board, and walk out with Dryden's entire supply of Coaxium. But also, technically, he couldn't, since he was sure Kenobi would tattle on him to Padme, and he'd lose the chance of seeing his wife and his children again. And, he was certain, he'd make an enemy of Maul anyway.

So Vader would play along. For now.

"So." Dryden took another sip of his brandy. "What brings the famed Darth Vader to my ship, seeking a deal?"

"It's not like we haven't made deals before, Dryden. Don't put so much thought into it." Vader waved it off. He wasn't about to let the man know how desperately they needed what he could offer.

"Yes, but you've never shown up in person before. I usually deal with the likes of one of your bounty hunters. Boba Fett is your favorite, isn't he?" Dryden asked pleasantly. It was the ever perfect picture of the perfect, benevolent host.

Too bad Vader could read the calculation whirling in the man's mind. Oh yes. He was hyper analyzing _everything_.

"They're dispatched on other duties. You have me to deal with now." Vader snarled, a warning to get a move on. From the corner of his eye, Vader noted Kenobi moving into a flanking position, taking up a defensive posture to protect his master. Like any good stormtrooper. Excellent. He tried not to dwell on it. _Just_ _doing_ _his_ _job. Like any good lackey would_, Vader thought to himself.

Dryden noticed as well and indicated the trooper. "Yes, well, I thought you'd at least have brought someone of higher rank with you. Perhaps that Piett fellow I've heard so much about. He seems to shadow you."

Vader clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes, watching the man watching _him_. So, he was attempting to stick his nose into places it shouldn't be. Best to nick _that_ effort in the bud before it spreads. "KO-2235 is one of my most accomplished warriors in the 501st. You would do well not to underestimate him." He didn't exactly _love_ talking Kenobi up, but he supposed it was no less true. If Dryden did decide to pick a fight with Kenobi, he'd be in for a rather rude awakening.

Too bad that was a show better left unseen. _Can't arouse Maul's - or Sidious' - suspicions, now can we?_

Pity.

Dryden had the gall to look understanding and slightly defensive at the same time. "Well, of course. Everyone knows you only employ the best. Anything less is-well." He motioned to where his guards had dragged out the body. "Let's not dwell on that, though, shall we? You came here for a reason. What can I, Dryden Vos, do to help the illustrious Lord Vader, Right Hand...well, _Former_ Right Hand, to the Emperor?"

Vader ignored the jab. He wasn't here to ignite further rumors. Or pick a fight. "Very well. I'm here to purchase two cases of coaxium," he stated plainly. Get right to the point, secure the deal, and then get out. There was no need to dawdle in this cesspool longer than necessary.

Dryden raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle. Obviously, he hadn't expected such a request. Good. Shock techniques _were_ often effective. "That's quite a lot of coaxium. Just one of those vials could power your entire fleet. Why so much?"

Nosy bastard. He wasn't about to reveal his ties to the Rebellion to this scumbag, so he settled with, "Insurance. I like to stay in the habit of being prepared for anything. I find it is the wisest course of action and mitigates potential_...issues_ from cropping up later."

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the Emperor moving to cut you off from Imperial stores of it, now would it, Lord Vader?" The man was beginning to get on his nerves with his smug impertinence. Again, Dryden was attempting to stick his nose where it did not belong. Too curious for his own damn good, obviously.

"I am not here to discuss politics or war strategies with you, Dryden. I'm here to pay you for your goods and then leave." He warned.

"Fair enough." Dryden dipped his head, pursed his lips and replied calmly. "You do realize that amount of Coaxium won't come cheap?" He arched an eyebrow, his look pointed.

Did the man think he was a complete _idiot?_

"I'm aware." Vader ground out. He didn't particularly care. He'd rarely spent his own considerable wealth he'd gained from his position in power. He'd mainly used it on hiring Bounty Hunters and buying the occasional illegal special part for one of his ships. _All_ of his wealth, the moment it was received, was moved to his own private _untraceable _accounts, untouched by anyone else, and known only to him. He'd checked, shortly after his assassination attempt against Sidious, on all of his _official_ financial holdings, and empty though they were, there was naturally a freeze on them. He'd planned for just such an eventuality, not willing to give the Emperor financial control over him along with everything else. Thus, his hidden accounts. He could pay the hefty amount required for the Coaxium quite easily of course, but without consistent funding filling his own coffers, he would soon run out of money. War wasn't cheap.

_Which is why the Alliance will fork over some financial aid to help fund this joint venture._

Dryden smiled. Then, without taking his eyes off of Vader, he signaled his guards. Two of them disappeared. Moments later, they returned with two cases, coming to place them on the low table in front of their boss. Dryden set down his glass of brandy and opened one of the cases with a snap hiss, cool mist eeking from the case as the glowing coaxium was revealed. Carefully, Dryden removed one of the sets of vials, holding it up for Vader, offering it to him.

Vader didn't move. Instead, he motioned at Kenobi to inspect the merchandise. It didn't matter though. He could already sense it's authenticity. Kenob dutifully moved from his corner of the room and approached Dryden, taking the set of vials carefully, making a show of inspecting it even though Vader was sure Kenobi already knew of its authenticity as well. Then, he just as carefully handed it back to Dryden, turned to Vader, and crisply said, his voice distorted through the helmet, "It appears authentic, My Lord."

Vader couldn't help the smirk at hearing Kenobi call him _My Lord. _But he merely gave a curt nod, and Kenobi pivoted on his heel and returned to his post. "Name your price, Dryden."

Dryden was resealing the case as he pretended to think it over. Vader had no doubt he had an idea of his asking price the moment he'd received the coaxium...and had probably significantly upped the price just because of _who_ was asking. "A hundred and twenty thousand credits."

Vader could feel Kenobi's shock reverberate through the Force. _That's a criminal amount of money! Who the hell does he take us for?!_

Vader had to suppress a snort. Good to know Kenobi wasn't demented enough to think that was a fair price. Because it wasn't.

"Don't play games with me, Dryden. I am well aware of how much that amount of coaxium is worth...even on the black market." Vader replied furiously, though he'd expected Dryden to pull something like this. That amount of coaxium was only worth about sixty thousand credits.

"Yes, well, with the war expanding and the demand growing ever higher, the price naturally goes up when supplies grow _short_." Dryden replied coolly, waving a hand nonchalantly.

_What a nerf herder! _Kenobi seethed.

The corners of Vader's lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. Extortion was to be expected of this man's ilk, pompous prick that he was; though yes, he did grudgingly agree that Dryden at the very least fit the description of nerf herder rather well, albeit _very_ _expensive nerf_. "Be that as it may, inflation isn't _that_ high." He countered dangerously. "Eighty thousand credits."

Dryden made an overdone pained expression, bringing his hand up to clutch at his chest overdramatically. "That's a low blow, Vader. I can't let it go that cheap. You understand, right?"

_It's not like he got the coaxium legally. Anything he gets is a bargain. _Kenobi sarcastically said. He was...again, technically right, but Vader doubted Dryden would see it that way.

Dryden pretended to ponder on it. "A hundred and ten thousand."

"Ninety." Vader immediately countered.

"A hundred."

"Ninety-five." Vader insisted, putting weight behind the words, hooking his thumbs into his belt and straightening to his full height. Final offer.

Dryden narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips, considered it, then slowly nodded, standing up and stretching a hand out towards Vader. "We have a deal."

Vader didn't bother to shake hands. Darth Vader didn't _shake_ on it. He simply stood there, unmoving, unshakable. A powerful nimbus of the Force. So, after an awkward moment, Dryden used the hand to signal one of his guards to come forward with the datapad to be used to transfer payment.

The man approached the Dark Lord, arm outstretched, and waited for Vader to take it from him. Doing so silently, Vader typed in the routing data for the transfer, knowing this transaction was completely under the table, undetectable and, again, untraceable.

As soon as Vader transferred the amount and handed the data pad back to the guard, he signaled for Kenobi to grab the cases. Kenobi immediately moved to do so. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Lord Vader." Dryden said pleasantly, that smug smile plastered to his face. "I do hope you come back again."

Vader wasn't sure if it was sarcastic or not, but he didn't bother with responding. Instead, he merely turned and left without a word, Kenobi scrambling to follow.

_A simple 'Goodbye. Thanks for your help,' would be nice. Is that too much to ask for? _Kenobi sarcastically asked.

Vader rolled his eyes, not bothering to glance back at the Jedi. Clearly, Kenobi had never had to maintain a truly intimidating persona in his life. They stalked down the stairs and back through the party. Again, the crowd parted left and right, casting them curious and horrified looks, and once again, Vader ignored them. That is, until the lift reached the bottom level and opened up to reveal…

That the guards had their blasters trained on them, and they weren't set to stun. In a blink of an eye, they opened fire. Vader, the Force sending a warning a millisecond before the doors swished open, simply lifted up a hand, palm facing the guards, and stopped the barrage of laser fire midair with the Force before sending the hail of lasers straight back to their owners, instantly killing them all, as quickly as it had started.

"_What_ in the kriffing Force…?" Kenobi hissed, jumping back a little as Vader silently punched the doors closed and then hit the button again for the upper level in the control panel, already seething with fury. That conniving little backstabbing _bastard!…_ "You see! What have I _always_ tried to tell you! _This _is precisely why we always say goodbye before we leave, even if the guy _is _an asshole."

"Not now, Kenobi," Vader snarled. The lift was seemingly moving way too slow for the absolute rage that was coiling in Vader's gut, practically _begging_ to be unleashed. Dryden would _pay_ for attempting to double cross _him_. Padme or not. He had a reputation to uphold.

"Don't kill him, Vader." Kenobi warned, as the lift reached the top and swished open to reveal the party still ongoing. The party where Dryden was now jovially congregated, meeting with some insignificant gangster Vader didn't give two shits about. _He betrayed us, but we can leave right now. We can go without engaging in violence and potentially bringing Maul into this mess…_

That did it. He'd promised himself he wouldn't, but Vader'd had _enough_. Yes, he'd learned patience, but by the Force, even _he _had his limits. And, He. Was. _Done._

_Shut it, Kenobi! _Vader snapped back as he stormed out of the lift towards Dryden, igniting his lightsaber at the same time. People screamed at the ominous red glow, scurrying out of his way. Wise decision. Glasses were dropped around the room in the mad scramble to get away from the enraged Sith, shattering on impact with the floor, and guards all over the room were pulling their blasters. With barely a thought, Vader used the Force to rip the weapons from their hands and toss them aside like confetti, then sending an outward blast of Force energy to knock people off their feet, clearing his pathway to Vos.

Dryden had seen him by now, and Vader could feel the outright terror thrumming through the man, just enough that Vader was able to break through the man's mental shields. _How is he not dead? I did exactly as my employer ordered..._Dryden thought frantically as he scrambled away from Vader. The patrons who had been milling about him had long since abandoned him to his fate.

"So." Vader snarled, deep and menacing, pointing his lightsaber at the man as he backed up against the bar. Pathetic. Truly pathetic. "Your employer put you up to this, did he?" Dryden paled, eyes widening as he realized Vader had read his thoughts. "You would think he would have come to do the job himself, or at least warned you that mere blasters wouldn't be enough to stop _me_, even with a surprise attack."

Dryden gulped. "Orders...are orders, My Lord. S-Surely...you understand."

Vader sneered. "So, you planned to kill me, my trooper, take my credits _and_ the coaxium back and resell it to the next highest bidder. Imbecile! Do you often kill your clients, or am I just a special case?!" He shoved the blade right up against Dryden's neck, only a hair's width away from decapitating the fool. Dryden leaned as far away as he could, trying to escape the heat of the lightsaber.

"Please, Lord Vader, it...it won't…" He babbled.

"Lord Vader!" Kenobi shouted from behind him. Vader paused, the tip of his blade just _barely_ at Dryden's neck. _Think of your wife. Your children. Don't do this!_

_He betrayed us. He deserves it. We will look weak if we let him live. _Vader snarled back.

_Don't. Please. _A pause_. Spare him. We may need his services again at some point. He's not behind this. Maul is. Please, Anakin._

Vader clenched his teeth. That name again. He opened his mouth to remind Kenobi that Anakin Skywalker was dead...but then he remembered. No. Anakin Skywalker was...somewhere in-between. And killing Dryden would not help him bring him back.

And _that's_ who Padme hoped for. Wasn't it? That's who she married. That's who she _loved_.

_That's_ the father his children deserved.

He slowly lowered the blade.

Dryden, upon realizing that he wasn't going to be killed, let out a breath of relief. "I deeply apologize for the...ah, misunderstanding, Lord Vader...I swear I…"

And yet, Vader thought as Dryden continued to semi-grovel while squawking apologies, letting Vos live didn't mean he had to leave him completely unscathed. He could still send him a message. A very painful one.

Quick as lightning, Vader struck, and Dryden screamed in horror and pain as his left hand was severed from his arm at the wrist. Vader deactivated his lightsaber, clipping it back to his belt, even as he felt the disapproval from Kenobi through the Force. He ignored it. Dryden was alive. His precious morals hadn't been compromised completely.

"Listen closely, Dryden," Vader snarled, raising his hand and pointing at the sniveling prick, as Dryden sobbed over his severed hand, "If I _ever_ decide to do business with you again, and that is a strong _if_, you need but look at your severed left hand to remind you of the very least of what could happen if you try to double cross a Sith. And if your _master_ has forgotten that, you can show him your lifeless hand," Vader kicked at the severed appendage on the floor, and Dryden whimpered, "and remind him that if _he_ wants to try crossing me again, it will be _him_ I will go after," then he paused, tilting his helmeted head in thought. "No. I'll merely clue a certain _Emperor_ on where to find him. I'm sure the Emperor would be _very_ interested to know who he is."

Even in his pained state, Dryden's eyes widened in shock, recognizing that Vader knew exactly _who_ his employer was...information that was a closely guarded secret among Crimson Dawn, only the uppermost echelon of the organization being aware that Dryden Vos answered to anyone higher in authority. Vader smirked Yes, he had his ways. He'd saved that very information for a moment just such as _this_. "For now, Dryden, you will stay out of my way." Vader turned, about to stalk away, then paused, looking back. "Oh. I will also not be recommending you to my considerable contacts across this galaxy when they're looking to procure non-Imperial _services_. Perhaps I'll send them to the Hutts instead." A lie. He would _never_ do such a thing. But Dryden didn't need to know that, and he could sense his threat and his display of power had done the trick. It would be a miracle if the man didn't wet himself out of fear.

Perfect. Mission accomplished.

So, he stalked away, heading towards the lift, leaving Dryden alone and still whimpering in the now empty room. As he entered the lift, Kenobi following closely behind him still carrying the two cases of coaxium, the Jedi replied in his mind, _That could have gone better._

_At least he isn't dead. I agreed to avoid killing innocents. I said nothing about not maiming individuals when necessary...and Dryden is no innocent. _Vader replied sarcastically, as the lift doors swished shut.

Kenobi let out a sigh. "True that. Baby steps, I suppose."

Vader considered telling him where he could shove his advice, but...despite it all, he couldn't help but smile, pleased at the outcome. He'd gotten what they came for _and _sent a very pointed warning to CD, Maul specifically.

And no one had been killed.

Baby steps, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. We can't expect Vader to automatically be a great guy over night. One step at a time...  
Next chapter will be fuuuun!  
The song for this chapter is Chicken in the Pot from Solo.  
Review!  
Love,  
Lady Vader23


	25. The Rescue

"I can't believe we're on our way back there. Again."

Pursing his lips, he frowned as he leaned back in the pilot's chair of the unmarked Taylander shuttle the Alliance had provided for this mission. Glancing over at his wife sitting in the co-pilot's seat, Vader was more than a little perturbed to see a smirk on her lovely face.

"I'm glad you find this so…amusing, Angel."

"Well, I know how much you love sand, so…" She trailed off, smirk firmly in place, as she stared resolutely ahead at the lines of hyperspace swirling before them.

"Very funny." He snorted, shaking his head, as he leaned over and flipped the switch of the nav computer that'd begun beeping, indicating they were nearing their destination. "So, tell me. How in the _hell_ did this happen anyway? And, how did this Fulcrum manage to fall into Jabba's grimy clutches in the first place? Alliance operatives generally are smarter than that." He should know. He'd been hunting them down all over the galaxy for the majority of the last two years. Most of the elite corps of Alliance agents were battle savvy and intelligent. Not prone to being clumsy and stupid.

Also, given the Alliance's – and Padmé's - insistence that this Fulcrum _had_ to be rescued as the next vital step forward in their newly formed allegiance, Vader doubted this was merely another rank and file foot soldier they were going after, which axed the clumsy and stupid notion immediately. This meant this individual was of much higher rank – and thus, importance to the success of their secretly combined directive of destroying Sidious and toppling the Empire.

He grudgingly admitted he was rather intrigued at the details surrounding this particular operative and their last failed mission. Which is why he and his wife were currently on a nondescript shuttle bound for his least favorite place in the entire galaxy. His home planet of Tatooine.

Not that he'd not had to visit that barren dust bowl on several occasions the last couple of years. He had. But, he'd not had the displeasure of visiting without the use of his climate controlled suit and mask as the terror inducing Dark Lord of the Sith. Since he was going on this little jaunt as Sandstorm, thus exposing himself much more than he'd like to the gouging bite of the sand and grit he so detested, he felt he deserved some answers to his questions.

Padmé rested her elbows on the armrests of her chair and tented her gloved fingers together before her, tilting her head back with a sigh, as she gazed at the ceiling of the cockpit. "The Alliance has been using a shadowport on Vergesso to transfer recently acquired goods and supplies to various hidden Rebel outposts scattered across the Outer Rim."

"Acquired? Don't you mean stolen?" Vader arched an eyebrow.

His wife's lips twitched, "I prefer to think of it as…liberating them."

"Semantics." Nodding once in amusement, it was his turn to smirk.

Rolling her eyes, she continued, "Bail got wind of possible Imperial spying of the facility, and he and Mothma sent Fulcrum to investigate."

Vader nodded silently. The Empire had indeed suspected Rebel activity in the Bajic sector of the Lybeya System, including on Vergesso. In fact, Grand Moff Kintaro had voiced suspicions of such and had recently requested assistance from the Imperial Navy in rooting out the problem. Interesting that it was his wife that confirmed said activities – instead of the vast Imperial spy network deployed across the galaxy. Of course, now that he knew about it, he had no desire to stop the Alliance's clandestine activities in the sector. Rather, he'd prefer to do all he could to _expand_ their efforts. Anything to thwart Sidious' plans was a plus.

_How ironic,_ he silently mused.

Padmé continued, "When Fulcrum arrived, it was discovered that Jabba was using an inside operative from one of the legit subsidiaries of the Tenloss Corporation, a Yasiloran male named Tuufik, to divert a portion of these _liberated materials_ from the Corporation, which is a front for the Tenloss Crime Syndicate, as I'm sure you know," He nodded once. Yes, he was aware. "...that were intended for the Alliance's use, to instead sell on the black market, intending to funnel the unmarked credits to Jabba's coffers. What Jabba didn't know – and Fulcrum soon found out – was that Tuufik was double dealing. He was actually siphoning off large portions of the materials he was supposedly selling for Jabba…and instead was selling them anonymously through middlemen to line his own pockets."

She paused in her story to glance at him. Keeping his expression neutral, his gaze was nonetheless intense as he processed this information.

"But somehow Jabba _did_ find out, I take it?" He arched his brows again questioningly.

Nodding, she sighed once before continuing, "Yes. You see, word soon got back to Jabba about Tuufik's little scheme, and he sent his own goons to Vergesso to _investigate._ Apparently, in the course of their so called 'investigation,' they crossed paths with Fulcrum, and things got ugly when they attempted to _extract_ Tuufik to take him back to Jabba's palace on Tatooine, and Fulcrum intervened. I don't have to tell you that it would _not_ be good if Jabba became aware of the ins and outs of our Rebel network in the Outer Rim."

"True." Vader nodded in understanding and agreement. Hutts could _not _be trusted. Ever. Not for anything.

She nodded, "Anyway, long story short, Fulcrum got caught in the crossfire, so to speak, and ended up being captured and taken to Jabba instead. Thus, our mission to…"

"_Liberate _them?" Vader's voice was slightly mocking.

Padmé narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, "Yes."

Grinning, he shook his head as he turned back to the control panel, preparing to cut the sublight engines. "Well, getting snatched by Jabba's goons off Vergesso is a whole different Sabacc game than _l_iberating someone from Jabba's palace. Believe me." His fingers flew expertly over the ship's controls to prepare their landing sequence, as he flipped the switch to bring them out of hyperspace.

Padme silently watched her husband for a moment then arched a slender brow, "Meaning?"

He shot her an amused glance, "Angel, you don't just brazenly waltz up to Jabba's front door and knock and expect to get in, no questions asked. It's more like a fortress than a palace really, and Jabba doesn't let just _anybody _in there either," his voice was wry as he shook his head again. "I swear, the Hutts are more paranoid than Sidious, I do believe. And, that's saying something, trust me."

Padme considered this, watching out the front viewport as they left the swirls of hyperspace behind and the distant light brown orb of rock and sand that was Tatooine suddenly came into view. "What do you mean?" If they were going to successfully rescue Fulcrum, they needed all the expertise they could muster. And, there was no denying her husband was about as _expert_ as one could get on matters involving Tatooine. Even if he hated to admit it.

Letting out a sigh, he eased back on the throttle, slowing their approach speed, as he entered the ship in a holding pattern, waiting for planetary clearance to be given before starting their landing cycle for their designated approach vector. "Well, first of all, it's isolated. _Very_ isolated."

"Why? Hutts aren't generally 'loners' by nature. They like to socialize and throw their rather gargantuan weight around, so to speak."

Smirking at her comment, his lips twitched as he flicked a sideways glance at her, "True, but Jabba didn't actually build the citadel. He simply seized control of it."

"Explain." She had to admit, she knew next to nothing of Tatooine's local history, other than what Anakin had divulged here and there over the years, which was surprisingly little. As a native of this barren wasteland, if he had any intel that could be of assistance in this endeavor, even if it ended up being nothing but mere folklore, it was better than nothing. Any advantage was better to be had than none at all.

She refocused her attention as Vader began to speak.

"Originally a monastery, it was erected for the Order of the B'omarr monks. They preferred to be segregated from other planetary settlements, so they built it on the fringes of the Northern Dune Sea, where they could be relatively assured their solitude. About a century or so later, a band of outlaws led by a man named Alkhara used the structure as a base of operations as they fought with the Sand people and plundered the local moisture farmers. Alkhara and his bandits augmented the facility, adding a labyrinth of subterranean corridors with several dungeons and other chambers, including living quarters separate from the monks that still dwelled there. He even carved out a roadway from the citadel to the Western Dune Sea and the Pit of Carkoon and added a nine-story tower and other battlements. Eventually, Jabba moved in and ousted Alkhara and his bandits and seized control of the structure for himself, and he fortified it even further, plating the exterior walls with ditanium and adding an expansive hangar bay for his personal fleet of ships and speeders. He also added further chambers in the bowels of the facility, including his own throne room, if you can believe _that._"

Padme smirked, "How _majestic._"

"Hardly. It's even rumored that he keeps a rancor in the dungeons."

"_Really?_ Sounds like quite the party animal."

"You've obviously been hanging out with Kenobi too much," He snorted in disdain, as their clearance codes flashed on the holoscreen imbedded in the control panel between them. He acknowledged their authorization clearance with a flick of a switch and engaged the thrusters to increase their speed to head in the general direction of the Dune Sea.

"Maybe. But, it just so happens I've been to a few _soirees_ similar to this in my time." She smiled coyly as she input the landing sequence into the computer, keeping her eyes squarely on the controls before her. She felt his gaze on her and turned her head slowly to glance at him, a look of pure innocence on her face but her eyes twinkling mischievously.

They stared at each other for a long moment before his eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to speak...then apparently decided against it and shook his head, "You know what...I _don't_ want to know." He turned back to focus on piloting their ship.

She laughed, "Well, what did you expect? Assassins don't hang out at galas and tea parties, Ani." She arched her eyebrows at him, her look amused. "We tend to hang out in the very _worst _dives and shitholes this galaxy has to offer. It's were all the best intel is." She shrugged matter-of-factly, her words causing him to slowly turn and look over at her once more. Oh yeah. She _was_ an assassin now.

He tended to forget his wife was lethal.

He arched his brows and nodded once, "Point taken."

"So, where are we going, exactly?" she asked as they entered Tatooine's atmosphere.

"We're heading for Wayfar, past the Jundland Wastes, east of the palace. It's the nearest settlement to Jabba's. It's not safe to land anywhere within the nearby vicinity of the palace itself. For one thing, we'll be detected by the perimeter sensors, which is dangerous. For another, the Sand people and Jawas would likely dismantle and strip down our transport while we're inside, leaving us with no way off this cursed rock, which is even _more_ dangerous. Don't worry. They have a small, but very modern spaceport and hangar bay in Wayfar. We can store our ship there while we're at Jabba's. It'll be safe there. People on Tatooine can be a ruthless lot, true, but they're used to the frequent comings and goings of this type of transport - and the various sorts of smugglers, pilots, and assassins that fly them. Like us. They also know to ask few questions in matters that don't personally concern them. It's part of how they stay alive on this rock."

"Perfect. So, how do we get to Jabba's from Wayfar? I assume walking is out."

"You assume correctly. Walking pretty much anywhere on this planet is suicide...for a multitude of reasons. Nope. The Alliance provided us with an NxR-T82 landspeeder, at my request. Ultra fast and highly maneuverable, it actually contains a cloaking device, which we'll need to approach the palace. There's only two ways inside Jabba's...the road I mentioned that was built, which leads directly to the front entrance, and Jabba's private hangar bay. I'm thinking the hangar is out. We don't have the access codes to get in through the shields, and the cloaking device, though more limited than you'd find on a ship, should nonetheless be effective enough to keep the S&J's at bay long enough for us to get what we came for and then get the hell out."

"S&J's?"

"Sorry...local speak for Sand people and Jawas."

"Ahh...I see." She watched intently for several minutes as he flew the ship in low over the desert toward a smallish township on the near horizon. "Wait a minute...Doesn't the NxR only seat two people? How are we supposed to get Fulcrum out of there? Strapped to the hood like a felled dugar dugar?" She frowned at him in confusion.

He chuckled as he banked the ship in a graceful arc, headed for the docking bays of the Wayfar spaceport. "No. That was the older models. The T80 series are all four-seaters. That's why I asked for this model specifically. I know its specs, as I've flown them before."

"Great. Well, now that that's settled, let's talk entry tactics. Any thoughts?" She gave him a pointed look as he set the ship down with pinpoint precision in docking bay twenty-three. Quickly, they worked together to run the landing cycle and shut the engines down. Once that was done, they unhooked their crash webbing and swiveled in their seats to depart the cockpit.

Heading through the ship toward the cargo hold where their speeder was waiting, Vader couldn't help watching the sultry sway of his wife's hips as she walked ahead of him. Smirking, his eyes glued to the rather delectable view of her magnificent feminine form, he replied, "No, but I'm guessing that knocking on the door and shouting, '_Surprise! We're here!_' isn't the best way to go."

She paused mid step and turned to look at him over her shoulder, her expression blank as she simply stared at him. He grinned and shrugged. "Sorry. Pardon the levity, Angel." He wasn't sorry, and she knew it, because she simply arched a brow in silence before rolling her eyes and turning to continue forward. Still, it was adorable how she kept muttering (curses, he was sure) under her breath, making him grin even wider.

Reaching the cargo hold, Padme palmed the access panel, opening the door. Entering the hold, the ring lights immediately came on as they walked in, Vader motioning at the waiting speeder with a grand sweep of his arm, "Ta-da! See? Four seater. Just as I said."

"Mmm...So, I see." Padme walked around the speeder to the front passenger seat, leaning one hip against the side of the craft, crossed her arms over her chest, and explained their plan of action, "Part of the intel we've received is that Jabba is more than a little _upset_ at this entire debacle, and he's placed a rather substantial reward for Tuufik's capture."

"How substantial?"

"Forty thousand credits, alive…" she paused, and he arched his brows questioningly.

"And…?"

"Sixty thousand, dead."

Vader whistled and nodded, "A Death Mark, huh? Jabba's pissed off, alright."

"Indeed. Which is our segue inside."

"How so?" Vader crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze on his wife intent as he listened to her spell out their course of action.

"Word on the spice runs is that Jabba's looking for a very skilled - but relatively inconspicuous and _unknown_ \- bounty hunter to take the job." She smiled a charming smile and arched her brows, her look pointed.

Vader nodded, well aware of where she was going with this. "Boba Fett's too high profile, in other words. Which leaves the door open for an obscure pair such as us, correct?"

"Correct." She nodded once then smirked, her dark eyes gleaming, "Only, we're splitting up quickly once we're in the door. I will proceed to speak with Jabba while _you_ navigate the subterranean tunnels to the dungeons and retrieve Fulcrum."

He frowned, "Why am I going into the dungeons? I don't even know this Fulcrum. You do. Wouldn't it be better for _you_ to retrieve the package and let _me_ handle Jabba?"

"No. I'm better at...diplomatic _discussions._ Not to mention, I have a much better working knowledge of Hutts and their politics than you do. Besides, _you_ can barely tolerate Hutts on a good day, and we _know_ what can happen when you lose your temper, Ani." She gave him a stern look.

She had a point, and they both knew it. He rolled his eyes and conceded with a huff, "Ok. Fine. Have it your way. I'll retrieve Fulcrum while you distract Jabba."

"Good. I'm glad you see it my way." With that, she nodded smartly, and headed back into the main area of the ship. He watched her go in confusion, turning his head to watch her over his shoulder.

"And, where are you going, Angel? The speeder's in _here."_

"To change. I'm not going in my Nightblade getup. I'm wearing something different for this mission," she called back over her shoulder.

_My wife and her infernal wardrobe! _He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, breathing in deeply to stem his frustration_. _"Fine! Just don't be all day about it, alright? This isn't a senatorial gala here!"

"_Whatever, Ani!" _reached his ears, along with his wife's laughter as he heard the door whisk shut to one of the two sleeping quarters on board. He rolled his eyes and grit his teeth, swearing in Huttese under his breath. Women! As long as he lived, he didn't think he'd _ever_ understand them.

His wife especially.

* * *

Force, he had a _bad _feeling about this.

The heat was sweltering as they stood just outside the massive entrance to Jabba's palace. He glanced sideways once more. Admittedly, his wife didn't just _look_ badass in that outfit. She _was _badass. With a capital 'B'.

From the helmet and blackened viewfinder that completely covered her head and face, down over the matching, form fitting silver and purple Mandalorian body armor with the dual Corellian CH-16a heavy blasters strapped in the holsters on her hips, the highly illegal Nylaar military-grade blaster rifle mounted on her back, not to mention the various other hidden weaponry and tools she had stashed all over her person, including inside the compartments of the heavy leather belt cinched around her waist, his wife was certainly a force to be reckoned with. _Even without the Force, _he silently mused_._

He'd hire her himself, he had to admit. So, he had no doubts Jabba would do the same. He tried to ignore the fact that her _ensemble_ still left little to the imagination, at least in terms of her form and shape. He bit back a snarl. By the Force, Jabba and his goons had best keep their filthy hands to themselves with her or he'd show them just how _aggressive_ his form of negotiations could get.

"You ready, Angel?"

"Yup. Let's do it." Her melodic voice was garbled and distorted by the vocoder built into her helmet, much like his own was in his Sandstorm disguise, which he was wearing for this particular mission. She turned and swept her gaze from his feet to his head. "I don't see your lightsaber. You've got it with you, I hope."

"Of course, I've got it. But _you're_ the one who said I needed to be _circumspect_ with my Force ability. Remember? Walking in with a lightsaber attached to my hip would kinda defeat the purpose, don't you think?" His tone was dry. He reached up with his right arm and pounded on the corroded door with his fist.

"Ani, by the moons of Rion, if you don't zip it, I swear…"

Amused as he was, he was prevented from answering by a round hatch opening on the door and a long camera with rotating optical sensor extending out toward them, a male voice demanding in Huttese to know who was there.

"Speak Basic!" Vader demanded, even though he'd understood them perfectly well.

"I heard what they said, y'know," Padme commented.

Vader turned to look at her, arching one eyebrow questioningly, "Since when do _you_ speak Huttese?"

"I learned from one of my trainers." She shrugged.

Well. His wife was just _full_ of surprises...Sometimes he rather wished she wasn't, in all honesty.

"So, you, uh, understood everything I said in the TIE fighter during the battle, then?" He shot a sheepish glance her way, somewhat embarrassed to think she'd understood the more _colorful_ phrases he'd used.

He could feel her amusement loud and clear through the Force. "Every. Word."

"_Damn." _He muttered under his breath, which only amused her further. He clamped his mouth shut and refused to say anything else on the subject.

"_Who are you and why are you here?" _The same voice suddenly boomed out, now in heavily accented Basic.

Padme calmly stepped forward before Vader could respond and answered, "I'm Noojja Dokic. This is my partner, Beek Varz. We're bounty hunters from Unagin. We're here about the Vergesso job."

"_How did you hear about that?" _the voice asked suspiciously, the orbital sensor moving back and forth between them.

"We have our sources. Now, open up! We'd prefer to speak with Jabba himself. Not one of his flunkies." Vader growled. He was fully prepared to open the doors himself if this idiot didn't do it for them. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that and thus, blow their cover.

The camera immediately retracted, the round portal slamming shut behind it. Vader seriously thought their request for entry would be ignored at first, but after a long moment, the slow grinding noise of the door opening could be heard before the locks embedded in the ground under the door disengaged, and the massive sheet of durasteel began to rise. A wave of blessedly cooler air engulfed them...immediately followed by a putrid stench that made Vader nearly gag. Kriff, how he wished he was wearing his Vader suit and helmet, to block the smell if nothing else. Glancing at Padme, he leaned over and muttered in a low, disgusted tone, "Do you _smell _that?"

"Nope. Air filters." She pointed to her helmet and tapped the side by her ear. He huffed at the amused tone in her voice, distinguishable despite the vocoder.

Once the door had lifted midway up, they entered with a determined stride, walking several meters into a long, dank, dark entrance tunnel, where they were immediately stopped by a couple of rather grotesque looking Gamorreans, dressed in matching vests and carrying overly large axes. Guards, obviously. The pair were motioning at them with their free hands and grunting at each other in their native tongue. Looking around, Vader sensed several hidden security cameras and quickly used the Force to disable them. Good. No holos of their arrival - or his trek through the dungeons to retrieve Fulcrum - would be recorded. Out of a side doorway, a pasty-looking, older white male Twi'lek with red eyes appeared, approaching them. Immediately, he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so, Vader ordered, "Basic!"

The Twi'lek inhaled sharply, audibly, taking a momentary step back before approaching them and bowing slightly. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat raspy, but intelligible, "Of course. I am Bib Fortuna, Jabba's majordomo." He stood up straight again, bringing his long talon-tipped fingers up and spread his hands wide in a questioning gesture. "Who are you and why have you come here? Did Jabba send for you?"

Padme answered, "Not exactly. I'm Noojja Dokic. This is my partner, Beek Varz. We're bounty hunters from Unagin. We overheard in the cantina in Mos Eisley that Jabba's offering a lot of credits for a bounty on Vergesso. Word is that he's looking for a relative unknown for the job. So, here we are." She motioned between herself and her husband without turning her unseen gaze from Fortuna.

"I will need you to wait here with the guards while I speak with Jabba to see if he is willing to discuss this matter with you." The Twi'lek tilted his head towards them and began slowly backing away.

Reading Fortuna's mind easily and seeing clearly his duplicitous intentions, Vader lifted his right hand and with an imperceptible wave of his fingers said, "You _will_ take Noojja directly to see Jabba. However, first, you will tell _me _where Jabba is holding his prisoner Fulcrum who was brought here from Vergesso."

Seeing the blank eyed stares of the two Gamorrean guards, as well as Fortuna, Vader knew the Force had taken hold of the three of them. He waited as Fortuna spoke, "I will tell you where Fulcrum is, then I will take your companion to see Jabba."

Good. Just what he wanted to hear.

"The prisoner you seek is in the third level dungeons. At the end of this tunnel, turn left. Go to the end of the hallway. You will see a lift. Take it down. It will take you to the correct level. There are three branches of cells on the third level, one to the left, one to the right, and one in the middle. Fulcrum is on this level. I do not know which specific cell block they are in."

Well, at least it was a start.

Nodding in understanding, he waved his fingers again, "Very good. You serve your master well. For this, you will be rewarded. You will take Noojja to Jabba now. You will make sure she is not harmed by anyone. You will forget that I was here or that you ever saw me. You will forget what I asked you for. You will not follow me to the dungeons or send anyone to check up on me."

"I will take you to Jabba now." Fortuna bowed to Padme and motioned for her to follow him. Glancing at her husband once more, she silently nodded, then moved to follow the majordomo in the direction of Jabba's throne room, the two Gamorrean guards trailing along in their wake.

Vader waited until they were out of sight, exhaling softly, before silently setting off in the direction of the lift, disabling security cameras at every turn with a wave of his hand.

Time to find this Fulcrum, bust them out, and then get the hell outta here and off this sorry kriffing excuse of a planet.

He had a reunion with his kids to get to.

* * *

"How in the _kriff_ did I get myself into this?" Vader muttered to himself (again) as he turned around to go back the way he'd just come.

He'd honestly figured it'd be fairly easy to find this Fulcrum once he hit the third level. He'd thought wrong.

Turns out getting off the lift was the easy part down here. What Fortuna had failed to mention - or perhaps just didn't realize - was that _each_ of the three sets of dungeons the majordomo had mentioned being on this level was a mini-maze in and of itself with walkways that criss-crossed and backtracked every which way between cell blocks in what was undoubtedly a purposeful design to confuse and befuddle prisoners attempting to escape. Pure genius. If he wasn't so kriffing annoyed by it, he'd probably applaud the ingenuity of the people who built it.

Gritting his teeth, he swiftly retraced his steps, stretching out with the Force to make sure no guards were nearby. As he approached the crossway he'd just passed through, he paused for a moment, closed his eyes, and besought guidance from the Force. _Come on. I need a little help here. _Opening his eyes, he felt a gentle tug in the Force, however slight.

_Go straight, _it seemed to say.

He moved quickly down the semi darkened passage, the only light down here from very dimly lit wall sconces positioned at alternating points along the walls every few feet, many of them broken, some of them missing entirely. Thus, visibility was poor at best and nonexistent in spots. Distantly, the muted screams of the occasional prisoner could faintly be heard, along with the clanking sounds of heavy chains moving. Apparently, this section of the dungeon was, at this moment anyway, empty.

Time to look elsewhere.

He had to admit, as he trudged along...Despite being thoroughly pissed off _and _frustrated as hell at the moment, he was actually _glad _he'd been the one chosen for this particular task. No damn way did he want his wife trudging around down here.

At least _he_ had the Force...Well, not that it seemed _too_ inclined to help him at any rate.

He continued onward, pausing once or twice to check his direction with the Force. It was insistent. _Go straight._ Finally, when he was back to the main walkway where the lift was, he closed his eyes, focusing intently on the Force.

_Turn left, center section._

He turned left, waving his hand to disengage all the security cams in the vicinity. Moving faster, as the Force seemed to whisper louder to him with each step, he paused when he entered a rather cavernous rotunda with four individual sections branching off in four different directions. He cursed his luck in Huttese. Great. Just great. _Talk about stonewalling_.

He didn't have all day to do this. He needed to find Fulcrum. Like _now._

He jerked when he suddenly heard muffled grunting growing louder. He tilted his head to try and get a lock on where it was coming from...Reaching out with the Force..._There. _Down the third corridor of the four, headed right for him. He sensed two presences, both unknown to him. Probably more Gamorreans. He backed up a few paces into the shadows of the corridor he'd just come out of it, flattening himself against the wall. He waited, watching to see who would emerge. If they came straight for his position, he'd have no choice but to kill them. He'd rather not do that if he didn't have to. He was too focused on his immediate directive to bother analyzing his response - and the fact that it was more _Jedi like_ than Sith like.

He silently observed two Gamorreans exit the third corridor, one carrying an axe; the other appeared to be holding a _food tray_. Likely a meal for one of the prisoners. Good. He watched as they lumbered over to the first corridor, which was to his left and began walking down it and out of his sight. Hurrying quickly, Vader made to follow them, staying far enough back so as not to be detected. He disabled more of the security cams as they walked along, bypassing several closed cell doors on both sides of the corridor as they went.

They continued straight for several minutes, walking through three separate crossways before turning right on the fourth one. He paused at this juncture, peering round the corner to watch their slow progress. They came to another crossway and this time turned left. He dashed after them with Force enhanced speed, paused at the left turn, glancing down the semi-darkened corridor to watch them, before quickly moving to follow. Finally, halfway down, they stopped.

He hung back in the shadows, watching as the one with the axe pressed his palm over the access panel of a heavy cell door on the right. The door whisked open, and the two Gamorreans were illuminated by the dull yellow light that spilled out into the corridor. Suddenly, Vader felt a hard, fervent pulse from the Force. _This must be it. Fulcrum_'_s in there. _But before they could step in, Vader felt his blood freeze when he heard a voice call out, _"Back again, eh, Boys? Lunchtime already? I didn't bother eating the slop you brought for breakfast. I seriously doubt this meal will be edible, either. You should've just saved yourselves the trouble, y'know."_

His mouth dropped open behind his mask, his eyes going wide, and he felt frozen in place, all the while his heart thundered wildly in his chest. He _knew_ that voice! By the Force, she was still _alive! _He'd thought her dead! Yet, here she was _very much_ alive!

And working for the Rebellion!

_Ahsoka was Fulcrum?!_

He swore to himself in Huttese. No damn wonder Padme and Mothma had insisted on this _liberation_ project! Or that Padme had insisted on _his_ coming down here to get her. _Very_ _funny_, _Angel_.

No matter. He had to get her out of there. Now.

Moving forward quickly, he withdrew the blaster from the holster on his hip, and just as the two guards entered her cell, he quickly shot them each in the back, immediately reholstering his weapon as they fell face forward onto the stone floor, dead. The axe clattered loudly across the floor as it dropped from the grasp of the first guard that fell. The guard carrying the meal tray landed on top of the food, and a low _squishing_ sound could be heard in the room.

"Well. Saves me from giving them a tip now. The service here's as lousy as the food is anyway." Ahsoka was leaning back on the metal slab that made up her bed, back to the stone wall behind her, one leg bent at the knee, her lips pursed as she squinted at the open doorway where Vader now stood. "Who the hell are _you,_ by the way?"

Staring at her, he wondered for a moment _why_ she'd ask him that since she should've recognized his Force signature immediately. For that matter, why hadn't he sensed _hers? _But then he heard the slight hum in the room, and realized the answer why. _Force suppressive binders. Figures. _No matter. She'd figure it out as soon as those cuffs came off.

_Then_ he'd have a real problem on his hands.

Because no kriffing way would she take his sudden appearance that easy. Granted, he'd not seen her since that fateful day she'd come to him for help against Maul, but that was years ago now, and truthfully, he'd just _assumed _she'd been eliminated either by Maul or in Order 66. He really shouldn't be that surprised she'd survived, though. After all, he'd taught her well.

He tilted his head and observed his former padawan. She looked well, toned and fit. Healthy, despite her present _predicament. _He couldn't help smiling under his mask. Little Snips had grown up. Her montrails were adult sized, as was her much taller stature. She must be a good four or five inches taller than Padme now. Interesting. Her Force signature was suppressed, true, but no doubt it blazed bright as ever.

This was _not _what he'd expected. And, he was pretty sure he was going to have to do some slick maneuvering here - not to mention some fast talking - to convince her _not_ to try and kick his ass. Because try she undoubtedly would.

_And unlike Padme, _she's _got the Force...and we _don't _have time for a knockdown, drag out here to settle things._

_"Hellooo?! _Are you deaf, mute, or dumb? Maybe all three? I asked you a question! _.Hell. _**Are**._You?!"_

Vader was jolted from his internal musings by Ahsoka's rather assertive questions. She was snarky as ever, he realized in amusement. _Better tread carefully. _Looking at the rather perturbed - yet wary - expression on her face, treading carefully suddenly seemed like an understatement. No. An impossibility...but he decided to give it a shot anyway.

He gulped.

"I'm here with Nightblade. My name's Sandstorm. The Alliance sent us to rescue you, Fulcrum." He went with the truth. Well, as much of it as he dared anyway.

She leaned back in surprise for a moment, but he could still feel her hesitation and wariness through the Force. Good. She still had her wits about her. He had a feeling they'd need that to get out of here.

_"You're _Sandstorm, huh? I've heard of you. A hidden Jedi who _somehow_ escaped the purges." Her look turned thoughtful, analytical, as she swept her gaze up and down, from his feet to his head. She didn't recognize his voice, obviously due to the vocodor. _So far, so good._

She pursed her lips and shot him a pointed look, as she extended her wrists toward him, "Well? What are you waiting for? An invitation? Get these damn binders off so we can get the hell outta here! I don't know about you, but I'm ready to blow this joint!"

_Here comes the tricky part. _As soon as he removed those binders, she'd probably explode on his ass. Oh well. He'd deal with whatever she chose to dish out, unpleasant though it was sure to be.

Walking forward until he stood before her, he waved his right hand over her wrists, unlocking the binders with the Force. The unclicking of the locks could be heard, the humming sound extinguished, and they dropped to the stone floor with a clatter. Instantly, she curled her arms toward her chest, rubbing her wrists with her hands. She tilted her head back and squinted up at him, nodding once, "Thank yo-..."

She cut herself off in mid statement, and he instantly tensed, bracing himself for what was bound to come next. He felt a myriad of things all at once from her: Recognition, shock, hurt, and anger. All of these melded together in an amalgamation of a Force wave he'd expected...but still wasn't prepared for when it hit him.

And hit him, it did. Like a tsunami.

Ahsoka surged to her feet with an uncharacteristic snarl, extending both hands toward him and blasted him off his feet with a Force push he admittedly didn't know she was capable of. He went flying across the room, landing flat on his back on the hard stone floor, just shy of hitting the far wall. For a moment, he was winded.

Momentarily stunned, he lay there for just a second, before he shook off his own surprise and pushed himself back to his feet. Slowly, he straightened, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, eyeing his former padawan cautiously. She was standing with her arms still extended, fury etched across her features, her blue eyes blazing. _"YOU!"_ she practically screamed at him.

"Fulcrum, now don't get excited. _Please_ listen to me...I-" he attempted to begin, but just as he'd suspected, she was having none of it.

"Listen?! You want me to _listen?! _To what? More of your _lies_, you backstabbing cretin!"

He backed up a step, keeping his hands up in front of him...for one, so she could see them and two, in case he had to _gently_ push her back a space to keep her from hurting either of them. Which was looking more and more like a real possibility.

"No. I'm here. With Nightblade. To _rescue_ you…" He tried again, keeping his voice low and as soothing as he could. He even sent soothing vibes through the Force, hoping she'd realize he was speaking the truth.

Wrong move. She growled and shoved him again with the Force, pushing him roughly up against the wall behind him and pinning him there. Surprised once again at her greatly enhanced abilities in the Force, he didn't fight back, though he certainly _could _have. But he knew that would defeat his purpose here, and he needed to appear as non threatening as possible if he hoped to get Ahsoka to see sense and listen to reason.

She'd always been a smart one. _Here's hoping that's still the case._

_"Fulcrum! _Listen! Please!" His voice, though still distorted through the vocodor, was pleading in its cadence...a tone he _hoped_ would register with her.

She relaxed her guard _just_ a bit at his words but it was enough for him to break her hold on him and stretch out with his own Force grip, wrapping her in a mental hold and lifting her up off the floor, suspending her in midair. His grip was firm enough to keep her from getting loose, but not tight enough to hurt her.

Not that that mattered. Immediately, a curse in her native tongue blistered the air as the Togruta former padawan began thrashing about in an attempt to break free. _Sorry, Snips. Not happening till you calm down._

" .Go! _Now_, Vader!" She snarled through gritted teeth, as she continued twisting and contorting herself in a futile attempt to get loose.

Vader shook his head, walking closer to her but stopping just out of kicking range. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to settle down and stop fighting him. "Not until you calm down, Fulcrum. We need to get outta here, _but_ until you stop fighting me, you're gonna have to hang around up there."

She seemed to get he was serious and stopped writhing in the air. But while she was no longer actively fighting him, she continued to glare daggers at him, her blue eyes flashing, as she bared her gritted teeth at him. If looks could kill, he'd undoubtedly be a dead man, but at least she was now quiet. That was better than pushing him around any day.

And, at this point, he'd take what he could get.

"Fine. I'm calm. _See?_ Now, let me down,_Sith."_

He sighed. He didn't expect this to be easy. Hopefully, her common sense would kick in, though, before he had to do something drastic. Like knock her unconscious and carry her out of here over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it - just in case anyone might overhear that shouldn't - and decided to see if their Force bond was still functioning.

_"Ahsoka? Can you hear me?"_

His former padawan jerked slightly, pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes at him...but she nodded silently.

Ok. Good. Progress.

_"Ahsoka, before I let you down, I need you to understand something, and I know this is probably gonna be hard for you to believe, but I am no longer Sidious' apprentice."_

_"HA! You're right, Vader. That _is _hard to believe!"_

"_It's the truth! I swear! I've abandoned my place in the Empire and I've somehow found myself the leader of a mutiny against Sidious. Furthermore, I have entered into a secret alliance...well, with the Rebel Alliance...in a joint effort to bring down the Emperor and topple the Empire."_

For a long moment, they stared at each other before she threw her head back and began to laugh hysterically. He sighed again and rolled his eyes, his lips twisting beneath his mask. _Women!_

After a few minutes, she gasped out, "Y-you...expect _me_...t-to believe...t-that...you're working _with us_...against _him_? Seriously?!"

When he silently nodded, her look turned incredulous before she burst into another fit of laughter. "Oh..._that's _hilarious! I wish the Negotiator could hear this!"

He huffed. This was getting them nowhere. Fast.

_"Please use our Force bond to communicate in here, ok? We need to be careful about anyone trying to eavesdrop on us. I shouldn't have to remind you that _that _wouldn't be good! You're smarter than that, Snips!"_

At the use of her old nickname, her eyes flew open wide, and her jaw went slack, and she literally seemed to sag in the air, just staring at him. _"You…you called me Snips! Like you used to."_

He smirked, injecting amusement in his tone, _"Why wouldn't I? It's your name. Sort of. Besides, you're just as snippy as ever. In _that _respect, you've not changed a bit."_

She arched an eyebrow, "Indeed." She then switched back to using the Force, _"So, you've dumped your Master, huh? About damn time you came to your kriffing senses."_

_"Yes. You could say that."_

_"I'm curious...Why? I mean, as deep as you'd sunk...What's transpired that led you to bail on old Palpy and the Dark Side? Whatever it is, it's gotta be major." _She tilted her head as she appraised him, waiting and wondering what he'd reveal next.

_Major is an understatement. _He thought then sighed and started again, _"Look, the reasons why are too many and too long to explain here. The more talking we do, the more dangerous our escape becomes."_

He knew as soon as he thought it, she wasn't gonna buy it. In fact, she was already pursing her lips and shaking her head no.

_"You're one to talk. Now, I refuse to go anywhere with _YOU _until I get some damn answers!"_

_"We don't have time to chat, Snips! Now, I'm gonna let you down, but then we've gotta get outta here!"_

She nodded once, and he slowly set her down on her feet and withdrew his mental hold. _"Ok. Let's go."_

But she didn't move. Only crossed her arms over chest and shot him a pointed look.

_"I thought you agreed to leave once I let you go?"_ He asked in frustration, motioning with his left hand at the open cell door.

She simply stared at him, her lips twitching and her eyes narrowed. _"I'm altering the deal. Pray I do not alter it any further. Now, I want answers."_

His jaw dropped behind his mask. Of all the…_"_E Chu ta!" He swore out loud. _"Snips! Not now!"_

She simply tilted her head and continued to stare at him, completely ignoring his outburst. He counted backward from five to calm down. _"By the Force!" _Her expression didn't change_, _and he threw his hands up in the air in total frustration…_"FINE! Here's the abridged version: Nightblade is Padme. She's my wife. We have two-year-old twins. Sidious lied to me about EVERYTHING. Working with Alliance to destroy the bastard. Enough said. Now, let's get escaping before we get dying!"_

Not bothering to explain any further, he simply turned on his heel and made for the open door. If she wanted out of here, she'd do the smart thing. He heard her soft footfalls behind him and knew she'd followed him. Good. Wise move.

_"I expect a _full _explanation once we're out of here, y'know."_

He rolled his eyes. He'd expect nothing less from her.

Ignoring her comment, he looked left and right down the corridor and then turned and went right, motioning with a wave of his hand for her to follow him. She silently did as he bid. As they quickly moved along, stopping at the next crossway, he could feel her stretching out with the Force in conjunction with his own search to check for any other guards.

Not sensing anyone, they made their way quickly and quietly through the maze of dimly lit passageways. This wasn't the way he'd entered this cell block, true, but he figured it had to lead to a way _out_ at some point. Besides, he wasn't exactly sure where Jabba's throne room was on the levels above them, and they still had to find Padme first before they could blow this joint. No way in hell was he leaving his wife behind in _this_ cesspool.

After several left and right turns seemed to get them nowhere, he heard a dry _"Are you _sure _you know where you're going?"_

_"Trust the Force, Snips."_

_"It's _you _I'm questioning. Not the Force."_

Huffing, he continued to seek guidance from the Force. They reached a fork in the passage. He felt a gentle tug to the left, which seemed to head off down a longer, more darkened tunnel than the corridor on the right. When he paused, seeming indecisive, he felt a stronger, more insistent pull of the Force. _Ok. Left we go._

He turned left.

_"Wait. Are you sure that's the way outta here?"_

_"Have I ever steered you wrong, Snips?" _He felt her incredulity practically explode in the Force. _"Never mind. Don't answer that."_

_"Hmm…"_

Ignoring her, he shook his head and led the way down the tunnel. They could hear vague muffled noises echoing around them but couldn't tell from where they came or what they were from. Midway down, there were other corridors branching off to the left and right, but these were completely darkened. They continued forward. Up ahead, the corridor dead ended at another rotunda, this one smaller with an arched durasteel door at the far end with an iron grating over the front of it. Odd. He'd not seen any other doors like that down here. Reaching it, Vader noticed there was neither a handle nor a lock on the door. Curious. Glancing all around, he noticed two security cameras on opposite sides of the top of the door, in the ceiling. Waving his hand, he disabled them.

Ahsoka was looking around as well, a frown on her face. _"Seems like a dead end. Looks like you knew where you were going alright."_

He turned his head slowly and simply looked at her. She smirked. _"What is it with men and directions anyway?"_

_"Very funny, Snips." _She just shrugged her shoulders but made no reply. _"Well, the Force led us down _this _particular tunnel for a reason. This must be the way outta here. So, I say we try and get through this door."_

_"Ok. How do you suggest we do that? Knock?"_

_"It appears to lift up rather than swing in. So, there's got to be an access panel here somewhere. Look around. See if you see it."_

They both looked and didn't immediately find one. Ahsoka slapped her palms against her thighs in disgust, forgetting to communicate through the Force. "Great. It must be hidden for some reason, and I don't think I want to know what that _is."_

Frowning, he figured they had only one option at this point. _"Ok. We use the Force. On three, we lift."_

_"I've got a bad feeling about this." _She simply shook her head.

Ignoring her caustic wit, he stretched out with both hands toward the door, closed his eyes, and when he felt her move into position to do the same, he counted off, _"Ok. One...Two...Three!"_

Instantly, they both concentrated with their powers on forcing both the grate and the door opened. For a moment, they felt resistance, but then a grinding sound could be heard, and slowly, the grate, then the door began to rise. Once it was about chest height, they ducked under it and moved forward.

Instantly, the most atrociously pungent odor he thought he'd _ever_ smelled - and he'd smelt a lot of foul scents in his time - filled his nostrils, making him nearly want to retch. He heard Ashoka gag behind him, and glancing over his shoulder, he noticed her screwing up her face in revulsion. _"What an incredible smell you've discovered, SkyGuy!"_

_"Ignore it. We gotta find an exit outta here."_

Looking around, they appeared to be in a small cave maybe? But his sense of unease grew exponentially when he noticed the grating on the ceiling high above them...and the bones and decaying remains of _something_ rotting littering the sand covered floor beneath their feet.

He also noticed that muffled noise they'd heard earlier...only now, it sounded much louder, and it seemed to be coming from directly above them. And it had a rhythmic beat to it. It sounded kinda like…_"Music?"_

Ahsoka looked up and pointed at the ceiling, _"Sounds like the party's up there. Know we didn't get an invite, but maybe they wouldn't mind a couple of crashers."_

_"Yeah. I think up's the way to go. It certainly couldn't get any worse down here. Not with this smell." _Under his mask, Vader wrinkled his nose.

Suddenly, the Force seemed to _scream_ a warning, and Vader literally felt the hair on his arms stand on end. But, before they could do anything, the door they'd entered slammed shut behind them, just as a rumbling sound above them drew their attention. They watched as a stone panel over the top of the ceiling grate began to slide back...and revealed a whole slew of yelling, clapping, whistling sentients of various races and species, obviously enjoying a party of the seediest proportions. Yep, that was indeed music they'd heard.

And right in the middle of all that debauchery, stood his wife, staring down at them, and he could feel the fear and concern rolling off her in waves_, _which did nothing to improve his ever growing angst.

_"Think they've got anything edible up there? I'm kinda hungry after refusing the slop they sent me earlier."_

_"Not now, Snips!"_

_"Huh, huh, huh, huh," _Reached their ears, and a thread of ice wrapped around his spine. He _knew_ that laugh, and he listened in growing anger as Jabba mocked them before smugly sentencing them to death - said in Huttese, of course. _Well. At least Padme heard _that _just as plainly as I did._

Jabba punched a button on his enormous chair, and behind them, a massive door began to lift open, and a loud scuffling noise...followed by an ear-piercing roar reached them. Turning slowly to look behind them, Vader felt his stomach drop to his toes, his blood freezing in his veins.

_"_Uhm...SkyGuy...I hate to tell you this, but I think it just got worse."

* * *

How in the _hell_ they were going to get out of this mess, Padme had no kriffing clue.

She'd followed Fortuna down into the lower levels where Jabba's so-called _'throne room'_ was located. Unbeknownst to her husband, the Alliance had secretly sent Rex and a couple of other Rebel soldiers ahead of them to Jabba's to infiltrate it and blend in as guards. As soon as she descended the steps into the room, she caught sight of Rex, and he'd given her the barest hint of a nod, acknowledging her presence. Mothma had briefed the trio of their mission directive...and her and Sandstorm's role in it. So, Rex knew her cover story, and in all honesty, though she was certainly _more_ than capable of protecting herself, she couldn't deny having the good Captain along for the ride, the clone who'd served her husband so faithfully in the 501st, was a relief to be sure.

Of course, she'd had to negotiate with Jabba all on her own, which had been a _bit _tricky, even speaking fluent Huttese. Not that she'd let _that _fact slip, pretending to utilize Fortuna as a translator in her negotiations with Jabba. She'd expressed her reasons for being there, and when he'd seemed reluctant to offer her the Vergesso job, indicating she wasn't what he was looking for in this endeavor, she very calmly pulled out a thermal detonator, turned it on, and threatened to blow Jabba and his entire palace to smithereens unless he agreed to give her the job.

She had to give it to him. While everyone else in the room had screamed hysterically, Jabba had merely laughed and declared her to be _his_ type of scum, fearless and inventive...and had promptly agreed to give her the job. If only he'd given her the coordinates and the downpayment for the hit right then, she could have left his putrid presence and gone in search of her husband to aid him in securing Ahsoka's release.

Alas. It wasn't to be quite that easy.

Apparently, after eyeing her from head to toe and grotesquely licking his toad-like chops suggestively, as part of the deal, Jabba _insisted _she stick around for the current day's festivities. Feeling nauseated at the prospect, she'd declined, forcing herself not to shudder in revulsion, but when he'd declared that if she attempted to leave the party too soon, he'd see to it she didn't leave at _all_...she felt she needed to at least _pretend_ to agree, for the moment. Especially after glancing quickly around the room and taking note of several more guards now lining the perimeter.

Typical Hutt. She could completely understand Anakin's utter dislike of their entire race. Amoral. Ruthless. Greedy. Hedonistic. Gluttonous. Their race was as loathsome as any she'd _ever_ encountered in the galaxy…And if her husband ever found out what Jabba had even _hinted_ at in their discussion...he'd kill the wretched creature without a second thought.

Or maybe _she'd _do it instead.

Admittedly, Hutts annoyed her as much as they did her husband. Not that she'd ever admitted that out loud to anyone before, of course. As a Galactic Senator, she'd had to deal with the Hutts on many occasions over the years, and she found their tactics, and their temperament, to be _difficult_ to handle in the best of circumstances.

Not that she would call _this_ the best of circumstances.

Perusing the party goers jammed into the room, she felt revulsion at the inebriated or spiced out beings cavorting about in drunken and stoned revelry…while at the same time, feeling heartbreak and compassion for the scantily dressed slaves, both male and female, who were weaving through the crowd, serving more drinks, more spice, more death sticks...or even themselves, she had no doubt, as she had to fight the urge to kill the Rodian male she watched groping a female Twi'lek slave across the room.

Unfortunately, freeing the slaves in Jabba's palace, unlike the ones they'd freed in the mines awhile back, wasn't on the day's agenda. No matter how much she wished it was. Nope. This was a surgical extraction. In, grab Ahsoka, and out. That's it.

She bit back an aggrieved sigh.

Hopefully, her husband had managed to find Ahsoka by this point. The atmosphere in here was rather _stifling_...and she'd already had to fend off the unwanted attention of more than one of Jabba's _guests_ while canvassing the throne room, looking for a nondescript way out of this den of concupiscent iniquity. True, since becoming one of the most feared assassins in the galaxy, she'd definitely seen her fair share of...questionable establishments but, sweeping her gaze around the room once more, she had to admit...she'd never seen anywhere that approached _this_ level of lewdness. Period. Not even Bespin or Coruscant's lower levels.

And that was really saying something.

At that moment, a flurry of activity by Jabba's personal pedestal drew her attention. Fortuna was motioning to the floor and speaking in a rather agitated and urgent manner with his master. Smirking in her helmet, she had a feeling she knew what all the fuss was about.

Or should she say _whom._

She edged back around the room, passing by Rex and silently motioning toward Jabba with a slight tilt of her head. The Captain tapped one index finger against her arm once as she brushed past in acknowledgement. She knew his eyes would be watching her like a Nockmyn hawk. After a couple of minutes, she managed to maneuver to within a few feet of Jabba, and she watched with rapt attention as the gigantic slug began to laugh, obviously delighted at whatever news his majordomo had just given him. He began to speak to the room at large, and she listened as he said that some _unexpected entertainment _was about to begin.

Oh no. She suddenly had a bad feeling in her gut at just what that might mean.

At that moment, Jabba smacked his pudgy palm down on a button on the arm of his chair...and the stone floor in front of her began to slide sideways, revealing a grate in the flooring beneath it...and stepping gingerly forward with the cheering ecstatic crowds now grappling with each other for the best view, she looked down in growing horror…to see the upturned faces of her husband and his former padawan down in the pit below.

Her gut tightened in anguish as she listened to first Jabba declaring, then Fortuna translating, the death sentence of her dear friend...and her beloved soulmate at the jaws of a ravenous rancor! The crowded room around her positively exploded in delighted glee at the doomed individuals' fate. Padme thought she was going to be sick, as memories of Geonosis flashed through her mind.

Well. They'd managed to escape _that_ nightmare. Surely, they could escape this one. She hoped.

That was when they heard the creaking and groaning of a massive door being slowly lifted along the back wall of the pit Anakin and Ahsoka were in. She, along with everyone else, heard the scraping of claws followed by the blood-curdling roars of the enraged rancor, and her stomach dropped to her toes in utter dread.

By the Force….

As the enraged animal appeared behind them, she heard Ahsoka say, _"Uhm...SkyGuy...I hate to tell you this, but I think it just got worse."_

Anakin's reply was a little harried, _"Really?! You think?...No shit it just got worse!"_

With that remark, her husband whirled suddenly, brandishing his Jedi lightsaber. Igniting it with a snap - hiss, the blue blade hummed to life...and the collective gasp of shock reverberated across the room around her. Even Jabba seemed speechless for a moment.

Anakin yelled instructions at Ahsoka, who used the Force to hurl jagged stones and large bones at the animal to distract it and draw it's attention away from Anakin, who was trying to get behind the thing. The previous cheers in the crowd turned to jeers, as they watched the two Force sensitives battle against the rancor.

Her eyes glued to the scene below, she watched as Anakin slashed at the rancor's arms and legs, dodging the animal's attempts to grab him in its massive claws, which only seemed to be pissing the thing off more. Ahsoka wasn't quite so lucky, not having her lightsabers with her, and Padme gasped with everyone else when the creature managed to grab her with one giant claw, lifting her up to bring her toward its mouth for a juicy bite.

Anakin yelled, _"Catch!" _and flung his lightsaber toward the Togruta, who stretched out her hand and called the saber to her, grasping it and igniting it in one fluid motion, and as she neared the rancor's face, she stabbed it in the eye with the saber. The creature screamed in agony, and began thrashing its arms about wildly, opening its claws and dropping Ahsoka to the ground in the process.

She immediately whirled to get out from underneath the lumbering, roaring animal as it wildly thrashed about in pain, its claws smacking the stone walls of the pit with a resounding _Crack!_ She took the opportunity to use the lightsaber to cut through the animal's nearest ankle joint, severing tendons with a single stroke. Now, more wobbly than ever, it stumbled backward, as its ear-piercing screams rent the air, and Anakin stretched out with both hands and _heaved_ with a mighty Force push.

Padme gasped with everyone else as the rancor was literally lifted off its feet and blasted backward toward the entrance from whence it came. Next, her husband stretched out with the Force, lifted a nearby rock and hurled it at a small control panel embedded in the stone wall behind the wounded, still flailing creature. The rock found its mark with pinpoint accuracy, and the massive door that opened to release the rancor was now the instrument of its death, as it crushed the doomed creature, its locking pikes slamming down, piercing the animal's skull and pinning it to the sandy floor of the pit. A pitiful gurgling noise could be heard as the last echoes of its final roar faded away.

Up in Jabba's audience chamber above the pit, an equally enraged Hutt was now going ballistic at the destruction of his prized rancor, screaming promises of the imminent demise of the two _Jedi_ who'd dared to evade their death sentence.

His promises of vile retribution blistered the air as he flopped around in his chair, flailing his arms wildly. He actually hit Fortuna across the chest and knocked the Twi'lek to the floor as the furious Hutt continued to roar. The terrified screams of the party goers erupted in a cacophonous clamor as they backed away from the grate, cowering in fear at just what punishment the incensed crime lord might deem appropriate for _them._

And with each passing moment, each threat hurled out by Jabba, Padme's own ire rose. At what the Hutt had done to Ahsoka, to the multitude of abused slaves in his compound, his _implied_ suggestions toward herself.

But most of all for _daring_ to try and murder her beloved husband and her children's father.

And the thought of her husband _almost_ dying at this vile monster's hands _now_...when hope had finally been reborn, when her Ani appeared so close to redemption...when it was _finally_ time for him to meet their children...Well. That was just one insult too many, and the presently tenuous control she held on herself snapped, severing any logical thought processes she had.

And just like that, Jabba unwittingly unleashed a different kind of hell on himself and his minions.

And the Hutt never saw it coming.

_Pssssheww_

Suddenly, in the midst of the chaotic din, another lightsaber ignited, the glow - and the hum - from the pulsing purple blade filling the room. More screams echoed as sentients scrambled away in every direction in a mad dash to flee from the bounty hunter who was obviously _more_ than just a bounty hunter. They needn't have worried. They weren't her real target.

That bloated egotistical slug _was._

But first things first.

Her blade swung down in a smooth arc of motion, slicing through the grating with a shower of sparks. With one circular sweep of the blade, she cut out a wide enough swath of metal for Anakin and Ahsoka to jump up through. Reaching out with one leg, she lifted her booted foot and stomped down on the grating, dropping the cut piece to the pit floor below. Glancing down, she noticed Anakin and Ahsoka already moving into position to make the Force assisted jump.

Not bothering to dwell on that, she quickly relit her saber and began making her way toward a now growling and screeching Jabba, who was shouting obscenities and gesticulating frantically at her advancing form, ordering his guards to kill her. _Sorry_. _Not happening, Hutt._

She vaguely noticed Rex and his two soldiers hoisting their rifles and blasters, preparing to return the anticipated fire. They weren't disappointed. A barrage of blaster bolts erupted, coming in from every conceivable direction. Padme expertly swung her saber in a rolling circle, deflecting shot after shot. It slowed her forward progress, but didn't fully impede it. Her conscious thought had narrowed to only one being, one objective...

_Kill Jabba._

Nothing else mattered in that moment.

She didn't hear the _whoosh_ of the two Force sensitives as they cleared the grate opening and entered the fray of an unexpected battle. She didn't hear Rex shouting orders or hear Ahsoka and Anakin calling her name frantically. Nothing registered but the overwhelming _need_ that burned in her very bones and pulsed in her veins to eliminate that piece of blubbery smelly _filth_ from the galaxy. Permanently.

Moving with speed and agility, she felled every guard and goon that attempted to block her path. The moans and groans of the dying interspersed with the staccato sound of blaster bolts ricocheting in every direction. The stench of death filled the room as the carnage mounted. Anakin was trying to reach her through the throng of dead and dying bodies that now littered the floor. Ahsoka and Rex, under Anakin's orders, were trying to direct all the escaping slaves and fleeing partygoers to safety out of the stairwell leading to the front entrance of the palace, while more guards swarmed into the room from other areas of the citadel.

And all the while, her senses remained honed on Jabba.

Stepping over bodies, she continued to fight her way forward, her saber swinging left and right to block incoming shots. She noticed an opening to the left of Jabba's pedestal that appeared to lead to a way around it. That could work to her advantage...facilitate an attack from behind the gargantuan crime lord. She dove for it, flipping gracefully up and over two Gamorreans in the process, landing behind them and quickly jerking the blaster from her left hip holster and shooting each one in the back. Not waiting to watch them fall, she reholstered her blaster and turned and climbed up on the small dais, immediately behind Jabba's chair. Perfect.

Crouching down, she ducked behind the Hutt, knowing he couldn't see her. He was too busy shouting himself hoarse at the bloodbath taking place before him to notice she'd disappeared from view. Padme smirked. No one was paying him any mind anyway. They were all too busy trying to save their own hides at this point.

Carefully, she eased up onto the back support of the chair, having _just_ enough room for the pads of her boots under her toes, her heels hanging off the edge. Slowly rising, she kept her weight evenly balanced on both legs. She'd likely only have one chance at this...and she intended to nail it. She noticed from this view Anakin's wide-eyed gaze on her, and he stretched out with his left hand toward her and screamed, "Nightblade, _No!"_

But his warning was too late. Before Jabba even knew what hit him, Padme lifted her blade high and then rammed it down with all her might...impaling her saber directly through the top center of Jabba's skull. The giant slug let out a frightening growl that faded to a gurgle before falling silent altogether, as she twisted the saber once, pushing down with all of her weight on the hilt, before jerking it free. The Hutt's large tongue stood out straight from his gaping mouth, quivering, as his body jerked spasmodically in its final death throes.

It was done. Jabba was dead.

_Psssssssssshhh_

Her purple blade vanished from view as she turned the weapon off once more and put it back in its hiding spot in the hidden compartment on her belt. Her chest heaving, she jumped backward off the dais, landing solidly on the floor just as Anakin grabbed her wrist firmly and pulled, telling her, "Let's go!"

He voice was clipped. He was frowning, and his eyes had darkened to the color of angry storm clouds. He was _not _pleased about something. The massacre in here maybe? She couldn't understand _why_, if that was the case..._After all_, _Jabba has been a menace on Tatooine since Ani was a boy. He should be pleased he's dead._

Still, as he marched her through the now quiet - and empty of the living - throne room, up the stairs, and down the long corridors leading out of the complex, his demeanor seemed almost _grim. _Confused, she opened her mouth to speak, only to have him cut her off before she could breathe a word. "DON'T say anything. Not now. Not here. Wait till we're on the ship."

Ok. Fine. If he wanted to wait, well…discretion _was_ the better part of valor, right? She could be patient.

Moving faster as they reached the massive front entrance they'd walked in hours earlier, they headed for the speeder where Rex and Ahsoka now sat in the back seats. She didn't see any sign of the freed slaves or the escaped partiers anywhere on the horizon. Reaching the speeder, Anakin silently pointed to the front passenger seat while he climbed in the driver's seat. She moved around the speeder, climbed in, and he immediately fired the engine and headed for Wayfar, staring straight ahead, refusing to speak to any of them. She turned around to glance quickly at Ahsoka who merely arched her brows and shrugged. Apparently, she was just as confused by Anakin's silent brooding as she was.

_This should be interesting then,_ she thought, and settled in for the ride back to the spaceport.

* * *

"What the _hell_ were you thinking, dammit?!"

She shifted uncomfortably under her husband's stern gaze.

They were alone in the cockpit, having just entered hyperspace on their way home to Gandle Ott after dropping off Ahsoka and Rex at their designated rendezvous point. He'd had a lengthy and private conversation with Ahsoka in the cargo old after they'd left Tatooine's airspace. She and Rex had left them to it while they contacted Rebel High Command with the final report on their mission.

After their discussion, Anakin had joined Padme in the cockpit, shutting the door for some privacy of their own. He'd told her what he and Ahsoka had discussed and that he'd come clean with his former padawan about _everything, _past, present, and immediate future at any rate, including his tirade aimed at Obi-Wan. He'd talked one on one with Rex for a long while also, expressing surprise at his former captain's involvement with the Rebellion, but ultimately, all had been forgiven between the two men, when Rex had stood at attention and crisply saluted his former commander, simply stating, "Welcome back, General."

Now, they were speeding toward home to reunite father and children.

But first, they needed to discuss what was weighing heavily on his mind at present.

He sat, arms folded across his chest, his right index finger tapping against his opposite biceps, and he was tense. All over. Even his jaw was tight, his teeth clenched, and his lips were flattened into a thin line.

Observing all these silent body signals of his inner turmoil, she tilted her head and voiced her confusion in as soothing a tone as possible. After all, fighting wouldn't get them anywhere. "What are you talking about, Ani?"

He tilted his head back and heaved a sigh, staring up at the ceiling, before he brought his head back up and looked at her again, this time with genuine concern in his eyes. "Jabba. The kriffing _bloodbath_ YOU started. Ring any bells, Sweetheart?!" His look turned pointed at his sardonic reply.

Oh...That. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. Yeah, Mothma and Bail hadn't been too thrilled to hear about _that _little tidbit either. Both Rebel leaders had chastised her rather soundly for such a poor move and such an uncharacteristic lack of _wisdom_ on her part for launching such an attack on the Hutts' most formidable leader.

No doubt her husband agreed, considering the seriousness of his expression. "Look, Angel...You knew what our _sole objective _was on this mission. To get Ahsoka out. That's _all!_ We weren't there to take down Jabba!" She opened her mouth to respond, but he threw up a hand to forestall her, "I _know_ how vile and loathsome he was. Trust me! _I know! _And while I can't deny Tatooine...and the Outer Rim territories as well...are better off in one respect without him, the _fact_ is...and you don't know _how_ badly it pains me to say this...those planets are likely to be in far _worse shape_ **without** Jabba than they were _with_ him!"

"How do you figure _that_?!"

He shook his head and reached up to rub his left hand wearily over his face before looking at her as if he was having to explain basic addition to an unschooled child. "Angel, nature abhors a vacuum. You should _know_ this. In fact, I know you know this truism. That said, let me ask you a question. What do _you_ think will happen on Tatooine now that _you've _removed the strongest, most powerful bully on the block, so to speak?" He arched his brows at her, waiting to see what she'd say.

She said nothing. The cogs were slowly starting to grind now that the heat of battle was behind them and the adrenaline rush well and truly subsided, and her eyes grew wide in dawning horror, as the realization of just what _she'd _done began to seep into her brain.

Now that they were on the same page, he drove his point home fully, leaning forward in his chair and resting his forearms on his knees and staring deeply into her eyes. She needed to understand _exactly _what the potential consequences of her actions today were.

"With one swift stroke of your lightsaber, you've now removed the _only_ force in the Outer Rim strong enough to hold the Empire and _all_ the other crime syndicates _combined_ at bay in Hutt controlled space. In essence, you've single-handedly opened the possibility of yet _another_ civil war to erupt on the galactic scene, because Jabba's son, Rotta, is nowhere _near_ as strong or as crafty and shrewd as his father was. And, none of the other Hutt Clans have anyone really capable of taking over the job either. And _we," _he motioned between them, indicating their new secret alliance,"meaning the Alliance and myself, of course, have our hands full trying to bring down Sidious and his regime. We don't have either the time or the resources to even _attempt_ trying to fight the Empire _and _stabilize the now very _un_stable situation in the Outer Rim."

She blanched. He was right. She _knew_ he was right. Blast it, she was smarter than this! How had she lost her normally rigid control over herself?

His next question was softer, more confused. "Why? Why'd you kill Jabba? That's...that's just not _like you_, Padme. Today, you acted more like _I_ would have. And that scares me."

His words were almost whispered, but in the silence of the cockpit, she heard every word loud and clear. She struggled to formulate her response, to vocalize _why_ she'd done what she did. "I...I guess I just did what I thought needed to be done, Ani. Like I've seen the Jedi do over and over again. Like _you_ used to do when you were a Jedi. When...when Jabba sentenced you to death like that...Now, when...when you're starting to turn things around and get going in the right direction again. When you're finally ready to meet our children _properly...When __**we**_ _finally have a chance to renew our relationship..._I don't know...I heard Jabba ranting, and something in me just _snapped_, I guess. So, I did what I thought any Jedi would do." She shrugged and reached out to grasp his hand to twine their fingers together...only to have him gently withdraw and lean back in his chair as he shook his head sadly.

His next words were somber, and frightened her deeply, "You're right in that you reacted like me today, Angel, but not when I was a Jedi. No. Today, you acted like I would have as Vader."

He paused. "You acted like a Sith Lord today, Padme. Not a Jedi, and _that_ worries me more than anything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs for this chapter are Mereen from Game of Thrones (for the beginning part) and the Beautiful People by Marilyn Manson for the throw down at the end of the chapter.  
Review!  
Love,


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